Thaw
by RedGrayBall
Summary: Beckett is distraught when Castle seems to have finally given up hope on them ever being more than just partners, and he begins to pull away from her, prompting her to face up to her own feelings.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note: A huge chapter to get started with. I keep coming back to the theme of Beckett's latent guilt about all those years of hiding from her own feelings, knowing full well how her denial was affecting Castle. The only way the show stretched credibility for me was in his superhuman forgiveness, and ability to not personalise how she reacted to his romantic overtures.**_

_**I think she's got a lot of grovelling to do, and he's got a lot of hurt to heal. In an alternate universe, taking place sometime during season 4, this is what happens instead.**_

_**Reviews are love.**_

* * *

><p>Beckett tapped her foot nervously as the elevator slowly descended.<p>

She had been on edge for days, despite a light case load. It had finally got to the point where she was seeking her friend's counsel in the middle of the day, without even calling ahead first.

_Not like there was much I could say over the phone from the precinct_, she thought, feeling a twist of panic that had become more and more familiar over the last week or two.

She exited the elevator and walked along the corridor to the ME's examination room, pushing the door open without bothering to knock.

Lanie glanced up from her desk at one side of the room, still holding a voice recorder in her hand, and raised a finger to indicate she'd be just a moment. Beckett nodded, crossing to a nearby chair and sitting down silently.

Lanie finished her dictation, ended the recording, and then put the device on top of the open pathology report she was working on. She pushed her chair back from the desk and stood up, stretching her back gratefully.

"So what brings you to my lair today?" she asked, but Beckett didn't reply.

"Kate?" Lanie asked, then took a step towards her friend.

Beckett was sitting motionless, looking at a blank patch of the floor a few feet in front of her chair. When she spoke, her voice was thin and full of tension.

"He's going to leave."

Lanie was badly startled by the sound of her voice. She quickly closed the distance between them and crouched in front of Beckett's chair, and the other woman just looked right through her, her eyes still unfocussed.

"Who is?" Lanie asked, and Beckett's gaze flicked briefly up to meet hers.

_Oh_, Lanie thought. _Well… damn it._

"You mean… Castle?" she asked, and Beckett just nodded once, very slowly.

"Oh honey," Lanie said, putting a hand on the other woman's knee. "Where is he going?"

Beckett blinked twice and then raised her head to properly look at her friend, and a confused expression briefly passed over her face.

"Where?" she asked, and Lanie nodded.

"I don't know," Beckett continued. "I mean… he hasn't actually _said_ he's leaving. But he's going to. I know he is."

Lanie frowned. "So how do you know he's gonna leave?"

"Because he's pulling away!" Beckett replied, and the rise in both the volume and pitch of her voice was shocking.

Lanie's brow creased with concern, and she patted her friend's knee in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" she asked, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Beckett sighed deeply, then began to talk.

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks earlier<em>

Castle had been unusually quiet on the ride back to the precinct.

They had been questioning the neighbours of the victim's girlfriend, a couple in their late sixties. They hadn't learned anything useful, and Castle had been distracted during the interview. Beckett sat in an armchair, asking the couple questions, while Castle hovered around the edges of the large living room.

His curiosity and restlessness was usually useful, because it tended to make the interviewees uneasy. They would constantly be looking around to see where he was and what he was doing, making it harder for them to concentrate on spinning a lie. Often, he would seem to be preoccupied with some object or painting, then would suddenly turn to ask a key question at a critical moment.

Beckett could tell, though, that this time he hadn't even been paying attention. There was a large mantelpiece along the side wall of the living room, lined with photos. From where she had sitting, it looked like most of them were of the couple, with several of what were presumably other family members. Castle picked them up, one by one, and stared at them for long moments. Eventually, Beckett was focusing more on his odd behaviour than on the questions she was asking.

She pulled her Crown Vic smoothly in to the curb at the precinct, and shut off the engine. Castle was still staring blankly ahead, and didn't make any move to get out of the car.

"What were you doing back there?" she asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"Hmm?" he asked, blinking as he came out of his reverie and turned to look at her.

"Back at the house," she said. "You were somewhere else, Castle. You weren't paying attention."

He frowned slightly, but he didn't deny it. "Sorry," he said at last, turning again to look out of the windshield.

She studied him for several seconds. _This isn't like you_, she thought, feeling the first stirring of unease.

"Is everything OK?"

"Fine," he replied automatically. "Never better."

She frowned. "And everything's alright with Alexis and Martha?"

He nodded twice, again without meeting her eyes. His posture was relaxed and there was no sign that he was lying, but there was definitely something on his mind.

"Well… maybe you should take the rest of the day off," she said cautiously. "Get some rest, and come back tomorrow when you're more focused."

There were a few seconds of silence, then Castle opened his mouth to speak.

"You know, I think I will," he said. His voice was flat, and quiet.

Without another word, he opened the door, stepped out, and closed it behind him.

Beckett quickly got out of the car too, but by the time she turned and spotted his navy blue blazer, he was already twenty feet away, hands in his pockets, disappearing into the crowd. He didn't look back.

* * *

><p>"Hmm," Lanie said. "That doesn't sound like him. What did he say when he came in the next day?"<p>

Lanie was now in her desk chair, which she'd wheeled over to where Beckett was sitting.

Beckett glanced down at her own hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.

"He didn't come in until two days later," she said. "He said he'd been writing."

"So maybe he was just thinking about the book, and needed some time to get it all down."

"It wasn't that," Beckett said, standing up suddenly and starting to pace. "I've seen him a hundred times when he's thinking about his writing. He was… I don't know. Distant."

She paused for a long moment, her eyes widening slightly as she relived the memory.

"He was unhappy. His _Castleness_ was just… gone."

Lanie laughed, then the smile immediately left her face as she saw her friend's pained expression.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "So when he did come in, did you ask him about it?"

"Of course I did."

* * *

><p><em>Twelve days earlier<em>

Beckett glanced up as the elevator dinged, for at least the tenth time this morning.

She hadn't heard from Castle the day before, and had decided not to contact him, instead giving him some time to sort out whatever had been bothering him.

She was uneasy, though. She had asked herself dozens of times exactly _why_ she felt that way, and the answer was difficult to pin down. It was just a feeling.

_But something's wrong_, she knew. Her intuition told her so.

_Is that cop's intuition, or women's?_ her mind whispered, and she frowned.

Her heart rate suddenly skipped up a notch as she saw him come into view along the corridor, walking towards the bullpen. A sense of relief flooded through her, then a moment later it was replaced by an even stronger feeling of unease.

His hands were in his pockets again, and his shoulders were slightly slumped.

_No coffee_, she thought. She tried to think of the last time he'd shown up at the precinct in the morning without bringing her coffee, and she found that she couldn't remember even a single occasion.

She watched him carefully as he approached, then blinked as he detoured to the murder board without even coming to say hello. She stood up after a moment, and walked over to stand by his side.

"Morning, Castle," she said carefully.

"Beckett," he replied, and she almost winced. He had that same flat, lifeless tone. She risked a glance up at his face and saw dark circles under his eyes.

_He looks thinner_, she thought, then she dismissed the notion, frowning as she studied him. There _was_ something different in his face, though. Something obvious, but also hard to see. Then it hit her.

_He's not smiling._

Castle always smiled when he was studying the board in the morning. In fact, Castle smiled almost all the time – not necessarily with his lips, but always with his eyes. They crinkled at the corners, and they sparkled with mirth and enthusiasm and mischief.

_But that's gone_, she thought. A small shiver ran up her spine. _What's happened to you?_

"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly, so as not to attract the attention of Ryan or Esposito.

"Fine," he said, still not meeting her eyes. "So what's going on with the case?"

She sighed inwardly, and turned fully towards him. "We're pretty much there. Financials turned out to be a slam dunk. Uniforms are bringing in the guy's boss now."

Castle nodded. "So just the interrogation. I guess I'll stick around for that."

She frowned. _And then what?_

"Do you want some coffee?" she asked, and he finally looked at her.

"I'm good. Had some at home before I came in."

There was no message in his tone, just a simple statement. She felt a pang of hurt, and pushed it aside, instead searching his face.

He wore a carefully blank expression, but his eyes weren't quite as guarded. She saw him look around her own face, then a blur of emotions passed through his eyes. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and while she was sure he didn't move at all, his shoulders seemed to stiffen for a moment before he returned his attention to the board.

"I'll be in the observation room for the interrogation," he said. He gave her a brief glance with a smile that didn't go anywhere near his eyes, then he walked off.

* * *

><p>"He was gone when I came out of the interview room," Beckett said quietly, and Lanie frowned again.<p>

Beckett saw her friend's troubled expression. "What?"

"You sure you didn't say anything to him before he started acting strange? What happened before you went to see the girl's neighbours that day?"

"Nothing," Beckett replied. "Nothing that explains it, anyway. We were just working on the case."

"And he seemed fine then? He brought you your coffee that morning, and he was his usual… Castle kind of way?"

She thought for a long moment, and shrugged. "Yeah, I think so."

Lanie thought for a moment. "What exactly were you doing before you went to see the neighbours?"

Beckett closed her eyes briefly. "We talked to the vic's girlfriend, at the hospital. She was really taking it hard. Like you'd expect, but she was in _pieces_. Her father kept trying to calm her down, and her mother was white as a sheet."

Lanie nodded sympathetically.

"Castle was quiet, but just like anybody would be. We couldn't get anything out of her. She just kept going on and on about how she couldn't believe the guy was gone, and how they hadn't had enough time together, and she was talking about all the things they'd wanted to do. She was hyperventilating. They had to sedate her."

"Poor girl," Lanie sighed, and Beckett nodded. "And how was Castle when you left the hospital?"

Beckett thought for a long moment, and tilted her head. "I guess he was a little withdrawn then, but anybody would be."

"True," Lanie said, reluctantly.

"He did say something when we got into the car," Beckett said, frowning. "But I figured he was just taking it hard, seeing what the girl was going through."

Lanie waited patiently for her friend to continue.

"He said you really never know how much time you have left."

"It's not like him to be morbid," Lanie replied, and Beckett shook her head. "And you're sure there's nothing wrong with him? Like… illness, or whatever?"

"I asked him," she said. "He said he's fine. And he seems fine, physically."

"Hmm," Lanie replied, pondering Castle's behaviour quietly for a few moments before shrugging. "So when did you see him next?"

Beckett sighed. "I was… curious about what was bothering him."

"Worried, you mean."

"Maybe. So I went to the loft that night."

* * *

><p><em>Twelve days earlier<em>

"Back already–? Oh, it's you, Detective," Martha said as she opened the door of the loft to Beckett's knock.

Beckett smiled at the woman and she was ushered inside.

"Now, to what do we owe the pleasure?" the older woman said, giving her a small smile.

"I just wanted to talk to Castle about something," she replied, and an apologetic look passed over Martha's face.

"I'm afraid you just missed him, dear. He had to leave to take care of something at that bar of his. He left barely twenty minutes ago."

"Oh," Beckett replied, her heart sinking. "Well, I guess I can just catch him tomorrow at the precinct."

Martha looked confused for a moment. "I… think he said he'd be here writing all day tomorrow. Perhaps I misheard."

Beckett felt a flush rise in her cheeks, and forced herself to smile. "I'm sure you didn't. We didn't get a chance to talk before he left today, that's all."

Martha nodded carefully, but Beckett could see that she was puzzled at how little Castle seemed to have shared about his schedule. They were usually always texting each other.

"Well, I should go, and let you get back to your evening," Beckett said hurriedly, giving Martha another smile and walking towards the door.

"Always lovely to see you, Katherine," the older woman called to her, and she turned back briefly to smile in acknowledgement, before stepping out into the hallway with relief.

She made it to her car before the anger hit her, and she pulled out into traffic aggressively, heading in the direction of the Old Haunt.

Ten minutes later she was sitting parked across the road and slightly farther down the block, looking at the building. Patrons occasionally arrived or left, but it was obviously a quiet night.

_What the hell is going on with you?_ she wondered.

She had been embarrassed in front of Martha. She wasn't even sure what she was going to say to him if she'd found him at the loft, but now she was spoiling for a fight. She knew very well that a large part of her anger was actually tension and concern, but she pushed that realisation aside for the moment.

"Screw it," she said, then quickly got out of the car and walked towards the bar.

The bartender nodded and smiled in recognition, and she declined his offer of a drink on the house. She asked if Castle was in his office, and the young man simply nodded and gestured in the direction of the stairway down to the basement.

She decended carefully, hearing music drifting up the stairs, almost muffled by the noise of the bar above. It was something instrumental, and melancholy sounding. Maybe some acoustic blues. Not his usual style either.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and approached the door that was slightly ajar. Peering round it, she saw him immediately, standing at the opposite end of the room. His blazer was draped over a chair, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he was facing away from her. He held a glass of his expensive whiskey in one hand (she could see the bottle sitting on his desk), and his iPhone in the other. He was swiping his thumb across the screen horizontally, flicking through what looked like photos.

The anger in her evaporated when she recognised her own face on the device's screen. Every photo he pulled onto the screen was of her. Some of them she recognised as being from various nights out with the team – several from this bar – but some were unfamiliar.

He stopped on an image where her face filled the screen. It was a candid shot, probably taken in the precinct, and she was looking off-camera and smiling. The rest of the details were indistinct from this distance, but he had paused on it for several seconds now.

He moved his thumb slowly through the air just above the glass surface, and she realised that he was tracing the outline of her face. Her breath caught in her throat.

He sighed suddenly and she flinched, but all he did was push the power button on top of the phone to switch its screen off, then pocketed the device. He leaned his now free hand against the wall, swirling the amber liquid in the glass he still held, then took a large swallow.

Beckett stood frozen in the entranceway.

She had known for quite some time that Castle had strong feelings for her. She often caught him looking at her in idle moments, and his eyes and smile always conveyed that he thought of her as more than a partner, or even a friend.

Then there was the Summer before. She automatically raised a hand to her chest, pressing her finger through her blouse to feel the scar left behind after the bullet hole had healed.

_I love you, Kate_.

She felt the familiar barbs of guilt curl around her heart. She had fully recovered from her near-fatal injury, and had made enormous emotional progress with Dr. Burke's help. It had been a long time since she genuinely believed she wasn't ready to hear those words from him.

But it had also been a long time since he'd said them. A long time since she'd told him she couldn't remember anything that happened on that day at the funeral. Too much time, and he would have too many difficult questions. She knew better than to suddenly pretend to remember one day; he would know immediately that she was lying.

_He probably knows already_, she thought, and again her own guilt made her stomach twist.

There was never a right time. More than that, she was absolutely terrified of what would happen if she was to acknowledge his feelings for her, or if he told her again. She had no idea how the change would affect their relationship. She also often told herself that she was no longer sure that he still felt the same way, but in moments like this, that argument was revealed to be the very weak excuse she already knew it to be.

Beckett waited a few moments, watching his motionless form across the room, then took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the doorframe.

"Come in, Tommy," Castle called, not looking around. She knew that Tommy was the bartender on duty upstairs, and Castle's right-hand man at the Old Haunt.

"You've never called me that before," she said, and he spun around, looking at her like he'd seen a ghost.

_Think of me and I appear_, she thought, keeping her expression neutral.

They looked at each other for a long moment, and she smiled tentatively at him. He didn't return the smile. The wall-mounted electric imitation oil lamps flickered, and she could see the light reflecting in his eyes.

"What do you want, Beckett?" he asked, his voice low and quiet and somehow distant.

She felt another stab of hurt at how he very clearly didn't want to see her right now. She took a tentative step into the room, looking around to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts.

"I went to the loft, and Martha said you were here," she said at last.

"I had some business to take care of," he said.

"So I see," she replied, her eyes flicking briefly to the whiskey glass in his hand.

He shrugged, and took another sip of the liquid. "Got another case?"

"Kind of. I'm investigating what's been going on with you lately. You've been different."

His eyes darkened, then looked down at the glass in his hand, swirling the whiskey around several times.

"I'm fine," he said at last, and she sighed in frustration, leaning back against the doorframe. She knew better than to march right up to him. He would just clam up completely.

"You're _not_ fine," she said. "Something's happened."

"Nothing's happened," he said evenly, still looking at his glass. "You've got nothing to worry about. That's the truth."

She could see that he believed what he was saying, and it both puzzled and worried her. Even more worrying was the discomfort that had been radiating from him ever since she made her presence known.

"You know that you can talk to me, right?" she asked, and then he did look up at her, with an expression that made her shiver. He wore a look of wry, wretched, bitter amusement, just for a fraction of a second, then he carefully schooled his features again into a blank expression.

"Sure," he said. She had no idea if he was being sarcastic.

"Damn it, Castle," she said, pushing away from the wall, but the stopped when his free arm moved. It only lifted a few centimetres, his hand still hovering around his waist, but with the palm facing slightly towards her. It was the universal symbol for _stay where you are_.

"I really do have some stuff to finish," he said, indicating his desk and the various piles of paperwork sitting on top of it.

Beckett blinked. _You're… asking me to leave?_

He simply watched her from his position at the far wall. His face was partly in shadow, but somehow the whiskey glass was shining in a beam of light, along as if it was on fire.

She was surprised to find that she was near tears, and she viciously bit back her emotions.

"Will I see you at the precinct tomorrow?" she asked, trying very hard to keep her voice even, and she was surprised when he broke eye contact.

"I've got some writing to catch up on," he said, his voice making the lie clear. He probably _did_, but it was an excuse. "I'll see how things are next week."

The nodded mutely, unable to trust her voice. She looked across at him with wide eyes, willing him to meet her gaze. He didn't.

After almost ten seconds, she took a ragged breath, then turned and quietly left.

* * *

><p>"Oh <em>god<em>, Kate!" Lanie said, reaching out to squeeze her friend's hand. "That son of a–"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "Don't just blame him. There's something wrong, and it's something to do with me. He wouldn't just decide to be cruel."

Lanie frowned, examining her friend's face carefully. _It's not like you to blame yourself_.

Beckett looked away, knowing very well what her friend was wondering about. She hadn't told Lanie about what Castle had said at the funeral when she was lying bleeding on the grass. Everyone except Dr. Burke believed she had no memories of that day, and she knew Lanie would be hurt too if she suddenly confessed.

"So he didn't come in for the rest of the week?" Lanie asked, interrupting Beckett's train of thought.

"Huh? Oh, no. He only came in one other time since then. Four days ago, and just because Esposito called him. It was about that case we had a few days back. You remember?

"The dentist," Lanie said, grimacing at the memory of it. "Javi said that Castle's insight was really valuable on that one."

"It was," she sighed. "As usual. He was in the bullpen for maybe three hours. By lunchtime we had a suspect, and it all panned out."

"Well he's a smart man when he chooses to be," Lanie said carefully, and Beckett nodded slowly.

"Then Ryan asked if he was almost finished with the writing he'd been catching up on. Castle said it was going to take a while, and they should probably count him out for the time being. He just left after that, without saying goodbye," Beckett said. "I haven't seen him since."

Lanie's heart went out to her friend, but she also inwardly tutted in annoyance. _It can never just be easy, can it?_

"And he hasn't… called or anything, I guess," Lanie said. It wasn't a question, and she wasn't surprised when her friend shook her head.

"I texted him last night, asking if he wanted to go to Remy's for some dinner." A slight flush rose in her cheeks, and Lanie had to use all her restraint to not roll her eyes.

"And?"

"And he just said 'already eaten'. That was it."

Her face looked like it might crumple for a moment, and Lanie felt a burst of anger towards the man who had caused it.

She reined in her feelings and stood up, beginning to walk slowly around the long, narrow room. After several seconds, she spoke.

"It was always gonna go this way," she said quietly, and Beckett looked up, startled.

Lanie stopped pacing and looked directly at her friend. "I think you know what this is about. You might not know what set him off _now_, but you know what's going on here. You said it yourself when you walked in."

"He's pulling away," Beckett said, in a small voice, and Lanie nodded with a deep sigh.

"Honey, you know very well how that man feels about you."

She stared hard at Beckett until the other woman looked down at her own hands. A couple of seconds later, she looked up again, only to see Lanie's raised eyebrow.

"He's… in love with me," she said, in a small voice.

"You're damned right he is."

"Only now he's not," she replied, almost inaudibly.

Lanie thought hard. Things had obviously come to head for some reason, and it was time for some tough love.

"About time too," she said, and Beckett's eyebrows shot up, the shock clearly written on her face.

"Think about it," Lanie said kindly. "Now he's gonna quit bugging you all the time. I've seen how you roll your eyes whenever he flirts with you – which is _all the time_ – and I've personally heard you turn down about a hundred invitations to dinner, parties, galas, and whatever the heck else it is that rich people do. You finally lucked out."

Beckett's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but Lanie had continued speaking before she could utter a word.

"I know you don't want him to be upset, but don't look a gift horse in the mouth. This is the easiest way out for you! You just give him his space and let him get over you–"

Beckett's eyes widened, and she felt her heart stutter.

"–then you can either get your partner back, without the pressure of anything else, or you can finally get rid of the hassle of having a civilian with you. You can just be a cop among cops again."

Lanie smiled widely at her friend, watching with satisfaction as Beckett's brows knitted together ominously. She braced herself and plowed onwards.

"You don't even need to worry about how to let him down gently when he finally tells you how he feels, because it doesn't look like he's gonna be doing that anymore. He'll be back with some blonde thing on his arm before you know it, and you're home free."

Beckett's nostrils flared and colour rose quickly in her cheeks. Lanie kept her face carefully enthusiastic, wincing internally in anticipation of the explosion of anger that was sure to come. A long moment passed.

Then Beckett burst into tears.

"Oh shit," Lanie said flatly, immediately putting her arms around her friend.

All the tension and worry of the last two weeks finally broke through, and Beckett sobbed wretchedly.

Lanie rocked her, glancing towards the door and hoping that no-one would happen along for the next few minutes. "Hush, honey. Hush now, Kate."

Eventually Beckett's sobs died down, and she pulled away. Lanie handed her a wad of tissues from a box on the desk, and Beckett dabbed her eyes then blew her nose.

"God," she said, her voice still wavering and high-pitched. "I'm sorry. I have no idea where that came from."

"Don't you _dare_ say that now," Lanie said, her voice gentle but firm. "And don't you think for a minute that I meant what I was saying."

Beckett looked up at her and then screwed her eyes shut, her face crumpling again. "You tricked me," she said, and Lanie tilted her head in acknowledgement.

"Big, tough Detective Beckett, outwitted by little old me? Wait til the boys hear about this." Her tone was kind, and she reached up to lift a loose piece of hair away from Beckett's face.

Lanie's voice dropped to a whisper. "So why don't you just tell the _damned_ truth, for once? Just between you and me?"

Beckett gave an enormous, watery sigh, and then nodded.

"He's… he _was_… in love with me," she said.

"You already said that," Lanie replied kindly.

"And I'm…"

The other woman was silent, giving just a small nod of encouragement as she held her breath.

"I'm… in love with him."

Lanie closed her eyes. _Hallelujah_, she thought. _Now if you'd just realised that six months ago. Or six weeks._

"And now my life is completely screwed," Beckett finished, fresh tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Lanie pulled another tissue from the box and handed it to her, putting her knee.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, girl – you've messed this up. You kept him waiting a _long_ time."

Beckett looked up through her eyelashes, her large, dark eyes now lined with red. "And now he's given up," she said.

Lanie nodded sadly. "Maybe for now, but that man is about as stubborn as they come. And he _is_ still in love with you. I've seen him give you a hundred looks that woke _me_ up in the middle of the night."

Beckett laughed, then the laugh became a sob.

"Love doesn't just go away in a couple of weeks, Kate."

"But it does go away," she replied, in a whisper.

"So don't let it! Go get him. Get him_ back_. Show him."

Beckett sighed again, her breath hitching. "He won't even talk to me. What if it's too late?"

"I don't believe that, and neither do you," Lanie replied, folding her arms resolutely. "But either way, you gotta know."

Beckett looked down at her own hands again, considering her friend's words. Several moments of silence passed before Lanie spoke again, in a quiet and tender voice.

"He's been chasing you for years. That'd make anybody tired. He's lonely, and he's lost hope."

"He's shutting me out, Lanie," she said, her voice almost pleading.

"To protect himself. You've done the same thing."

Beckett was startled by the remark, but she knew it was true.

"So what do I do? I can't just walk up to him and…"

"Tell him how you feel? No, probably not. I'm not sure there's a quick fix."

"So what do I _do_?"

More tears slid down her cheeks, and she swiped them away angrily.

"Oh, honey," Lanie said, embracing her stubborn friend and stroking her hair. "I think it's your turn to chase _him_."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews. It means a lot to me to know that you've decided to see how the story plays out (it's still a mystery to me too).**_

_**It's time to get Castle's perspective on what's bothering him. This is a slightly darker, introspective chapter, giving voice to Castle's thoughts. I have a glass of scotch beside me too, as I write this - but his is probably more expensive.**_

* * *

><p>Castle closed the lid of his laptop, seeing the illumination behind the Apple logo wink out, then ran his fingers across the aluminium surface.<p>

He had finished another chapter of the next Nikki Heat novel, much to his surprise. It turns out that he _could_ still work even when he wasn't in touch with the character's inspiration and his muse.

He sighed, shaking his head at the thought. _Is a muse supposed to haunt you?_

He hadn't seen her in four days. She had texted last night, their first contact since he'd last been in the precinct, but he had brushed her off. He couldn't bear to see her. That would be a step backwards, and such an easy one to make.

Nonetheless, he saw her everywhere. She was Nikki Heat on the covers of the books around his office. He saw her in the empty space beside him on the couch most evenings. He saw her standing in the office doorway. His traitorous mind saw her sitting on his bed, legs curled up beneath her. And when he fell asleep, he saw almost nothing else until he woke, abruptly, with sweat on his brow and a racing pulse. At least he was sleeping again.

He rubbed his temples in frustration, partly at himself.

Something had changed. It happened suddenly, but the circumstances were so mundane. It puzzled and fascinated him how the biggest changes in life often happened with so little fanfare. No dramatic revelation, or elaborate confrontation. Just something clicking into place, on an ordinary morning, on a regular day, and nobody else even notices.

He glanced over at the bottle of scotch whisky on the side cabinet, and shrugged before crossing the room towards it and upturning a glass. It was almost 8PM, after all.

Two weeks ago, they had an awful case where a junior office worker was murdered by his own boss, the body dumped in an abandoned van in the warehouse district. The victim's girlfriend was an employee in the same department – that was how they'd met – and they had everything ahead of them.

The young man had been murdered because he'd accidentally found out that his boss was skimming money from the company's petty cash to bet on horses. Not exactly a motive for murder, except that the boss's marriage was already on the rocks because of previous gambling problems, and his wife had promised she was going to take his two daughters with her if she ever found him placing bets again.

The victim's name was Jamie Cooper, and he never had any intention of telling anyone about the theft. It was all for minor amounts, and he needed the job. His boss, however, was under severe pressure and just snapped. He'd lost another four hundred that afternoon, when a horse called _Slightly Snazzy_ failed to place. A man lost his life, brutally, and a future was dissolved – all because of a horse with a stupid name. It was so pointless. And they'd seen far, far worse cases too.

The girlfriend, Lynsey Kane, broke down completely when she heard the news. She was taken to hospital, and that's where they'd tried to interview her. It had been a futile exercise, though it had at least ruled her out as a suspect. Cooper had been her whole world, even though they'd only been together for just over a year. She was beyond distraught.

Castle's gaze had naturally moved to Beckett while the girl was in hysterics, going on and on about how her future had been taken away. Beckett had also been the one to get the news about the death of a loved one, and he always felt protective towards her whenever they were talking to a victim's loved ones.

He had known for quite some time that she was lying about not remembering the day she was shot. It came across in various little things. She would blink an extra time if the subject of her shooting came up, which was rarely. Whenever a suspect would feign forgetfulness, she would scoff but then hold herself back, being wary of completely denouncing the phenomenon.

But most of all it showed in her eyes. She kept checking. Whenever she was having a particularly bad day, or if they'd had an argument about something, or even just in odd moments where she was feeling contemplative, she would seek out his eyes and seem to search them for something. If he caught her she'd look away, but not before taking just another moment to satisfy herself that she still saw something in his gaze.

And she absolutely, categorically refused to talk about anything related to their relationship status. She was an expert at deflecting the subject, with sarcasm, jokes, distraction, or false annoyance. He had long since stopped trying to bring it up.

But something changed as he stood at the side of the hospital room, watching the poor girl's father frantically tell her to just hush, to take a deep breath, that it was all going to be OK somehow, that they all still had each other.

Lynsey's mind seemed to be stuck in a loop, unable to grasp the magnitude of the loss she was feeling. She was too smart for her own good, and she could readily see every part of the fairytale future she'd convinced herself that she and Cooper would have. She had been counting on it – had already been living in that future – and now all she could do was see every last facet of it disintegrate, never to return.

"_We didn't have enough time!_" she kept saying, her breath coming in great ragged gasps, until her voice started to scratch. The nurse had inserted a syringe into her IV and depressed the plunger soon afterwards, and the Lynsey just seemed to fold in on herself, going from keening to eerily silent in less than half a minute, then her eyes had fluttered closed.

The medically-imposed state of calm was somehow worse – more _wrong_ – than the tears and the thrashing, and Castle was glad when they left the room a few minutes later.

He thought of Alexis as they walked along the endless identical corridors of the hospital complex, and eventually out into the grey light of day. Would she be so utterly unmade if he died? Surely not, or at least not for long. She'd find strength, and she'd deal with the loss, then she'd move on with her life. The thought of her just getting stuck like that – paused, running in a tight loop, drowning in grief without a way out – chilled him to the bone.

_Life is to be lived, because tomorrow isn't guaranteed._

Then he had glanced over towards Beckett as they reached her car, and again caught her checking his expression. She quickly looked away, opening the driver's side door and getting in, … and then everything had just fallen into place. The _click_ in his mind was almost audible.

He was the one who was paused. Stuck.

_Always another today, and never a tomorrow_.

"I'm waiting for something that's not coming," he said to himself, aloud, resting his hand on top of the car. His voice sounded almost surprised, to his own ears. A breeze cut across the parking lot, making his coat flap, and he shivered without noticing. He blinked, then opened the door and got in. Beckett had given him a questioning look, but she hadn't said anything.

That was two weeks ago.

He had spent a lot of hours since then, pacing the floor of his office in the loft. Making realisations, then playing them back, over and over again.

_I'm waiting, and she's keeping me waiting._

_She wants me as a partner and friend, but she runs from anything else._

_She knows how I feel about her, but she's claimed for months that she doesn't remember._

He saw pieces of the future that he had slowly started to sketch in his mind over the past few years. All of the _firsts_ that they wonderfully still had ahead of them. Their first real kiss, as a couple. Their first mutually-acknowledged date. The first time he could walk down the street with her, holding her hand. The first time they made love. The first time she would say the words back to him.

But it was all just fantasy.

_Follow the evidence, Castle. You've got to follow the evidence_.

He smiled a small, sad smile. Even the voice in his mind was hers. The evidence was damningly clear.

"She doesn't love me," he murmured. The clock on the wall ticked in subdued sympathy.

Amber liquid sloshed into lead crystal, made darker and more exotic by the dim light. The sharp smell simultaneously wrinkled his nose and wakened his taste buds.

A copy of _Heat Wave_ sat only a couple of feet away from the whisky bottle, deliberately positioned at an irregular angle so to look as if it had been casually set down, to be picked up again at any moment. He grimaced at it, then used the back of his hand to knock it to the floor.

_Life is to be lived_, he thought, raising the glass in a mock toast towards his own silhouette in the nearby window. _Because tomorrow isn't guaranteed_.

He stared into the shadow where his reflection's eyes would be, but it had no wisdom to offer.

He sighed deeply, feeling suddenly much older, then lifted the glass to his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Beckett had spent another hour with Lanie, most of it at a cafe a block away from the ME building, talking in circles about how to get through to Castle.

By 2PM she'd returned to the precinct, and busied herself with paperwork. Ryan and Esposito had periodically dropped by her desk, checking up on her, and she knew they were aware that something was wrong. Castle hadn't been in for days, and had been absent most of the previous week, and Beckett had been withdrawn and short-tempered.

She was still looking up whenever the elevator pinged, and she snapped at a uniformed officer who laid an evidence bag on the chair that Castle always sat in.

It was now evening, and she was sitting on the couch in her apartment, staring into space. She was holding a keyring in her hands – the kind that's a solid piece of flexible, brightly-coloured plastic, cut into the shape of a name. It was a hideous neon orange colour, and it said _Nikki_.

Castle had picked it out of a rack of dozens of other similar ones, each showing a different name, when they were walking back to her Crown Vic after talking to a suspect last year. He insisted on buying it for her, a gleeful grin on his face, and she had pretended to think it was silly.

She never attached it to her keys, either for the car or her apartment, because then there was a chance that Ryan or Esposito would see it and tease her mercilessly. She _had_ kept it, though, in her bedside drawer. She took it out every once in a while and turned it over repeatedly in her hands.

_He probably thinks I threw this away the same day he gave it to me_, she thought. She'd never given him any reason to think otherwise.

And wasn't that really the whole problem, after all?

He demonstrated his feelings for her in a hundred different ways, all the time. Coffee, notes on her desk, invading her personal space. The flirting, the glances, and the occasional touches. The looks he gave her, more than anything else. The words that were carefully crafted to not push her too far, but which were also promises. _Until tomorrow. That's what partners do. Always._

And then there were those three little words that he'd said – twice – at the funeral. She knew that his feelings hadn't changed over the Summer, or over the months afterwards once they were reunited.

_But they're changing now_, she thought, feeling icy panic chill her to the core.

She now realised that it didn't even matter what the final straw had been, because this was inevitable. If their situations had been reversed, would she have stuck around? Waiting patiently, turning up every day, lending support with every unasked question, and speaking volumes with every look?

"Probably not," she whispered, and she suddenly felt disgusted with herself. Of _course_ he was tired of waiting, because she had given him almost nothing to wait for. He was a man who loved fiercely, but she also knew that when he was betrayed, he became a ghost for months on end as he put himself back together. She had heard enough oblique references from Martha to the aftermaths of his two divorces, and she had seen it first hand with reaction to his childhood friend being arrested for murder. Then there was his father's absence from his life.

He bounced back from seeing the worst aspects of humanity every week, but when someone that he truly cared about – or loved – disappointed him, he withdrew into himself, and it took a long time for him to come back out.

_That's what he's doing now_, she thought, and she wasn't surprised to feel the damp trace of a tear rolling down her cheek.

These last two weeks had been deeply unsettling, because she felt the absence of him in so many different ways – not just physically. She didn't smell his cologne as he arrived at the precinct, because most days he hadn't arrived at all. She didn't find a post-it note with a silly message or sketch when she got back from interviewing a suspect. She didn't return to her desk to see a cup of perfectly-made coffee waiting for her.

She sat all evening at home without getting a single text message from him. When she saw or heard something that he would normally remark on, even his voice in her mind was absent – frozen and silent because she knew that, now, he wouldn't speak even if he was with her.

Whenever she entered the elevator, she did so alone, with no warm hand brushing against the small of her back. Whenever she was frustrated with a case and sighed deeply, she didn't look up to see sympathetic blue eyes sparkling at her, silently saying _You'll figure it out_ and _I'm sorry _and _I love you_.

Those thousand little affections, every day, were what had reassured her of how he felt about her. They had surrounded her, permanently, becoming part of the fabric of her life. She had come to depend on them. Now, those were all the things she missed terribly.

But, of course, those were also the things that _he'd_ been missing – because she hadn't offered them to him.

_I deserve this_, she thought. _The only surprise is that it took him this long to get tired of… me._

She swiped furiously at another pair of tears trickling down her cheeks, and took several deep breaths.

"OK, calm down," she muttered to herself, and then suddenly Castle's voice was in her head again, but it was his new voice: cold, and guarded.

_No use crying over spilt milk, Detective_.

"He deserves a lot more than I've given him," she said to the empty room.

_Glad we're finally agreed on that. Shame it's a bit late._

"It's not that I don't care."

_What is it, then?_

She stared at the surface of her coffee table without seeing it, lost in thought for a minute or two.

"I wasn't ready," she said at last, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

_Bullshit. But by all means continue not being ready. It's kind of a moot point now._

"I _do_ love you, Rick," she said, and even now the admission make her stomach twist with unease.

_You've got a funny way of showing it, Beckett._

She shivered, feeling a pang of real despair. His imagined voice was so clear, and where before it had always been a source of strength, now it was cutting into her.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but then just sighed. How had things got to this point so quickly? Two weeks, after all the months and years they'd been part of each other's lives.

She looked down at the keyring in her hands, thinking about all that it symbolised. The name _Nikki_ wasn't just a reference to the books themselves, or to her status as his muse. It also told her what she'd long known: that the novels were his love letters to her, and that his work with the 12th Precinct was about much more than his writing.

He had spent years now, immortalising her in fiction. Painting a larger-than-life image of her that she knew was how he really saw her. He had put her on a pedestal and made sure that half the world had seen it. Her heart stuttered as she thought of it all that way for the first time.

They all joked about the books from time to time, but the actual extent of the tribute he'd paid her was staggering. Almost any bookstore in the world held these stories, and if someone picked up a copy and opened it to the dedication page, there she was: _the extraordinary KB_.

This man, who had given her more than any other man ever had before – by a factor of thousands. Who had given her more than any other man ever _would_. And who had also found time to show her that he was _in love with her_, in a hundred ways, every single day.

_I've been so awful to you_, she thought, the icy feeling again moving through her chest in waves. _I should have grabbed you with both hands and never let go. I must have been insane_!

"I have to fix this," she said, her voice wavering, and she instinctively reached for her phone and then froze.

There was nothing she could say. She could so easily picture the indifferent responses he might make to almost anything she could say. It was too sudden. What did she expect? To just say a few words to him – words he'd no doubt been waiting for and hoping for, for so long now – and everything would magically be fixed? She could imagine the disdain on his face at the very idea of it.

_This isn't a piece of fiction, Kate. Life's not that simple._

She stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of her couch, still clutching the keyring.

The first thing she needed to do was actually get to see him. He had asked her to leave when she'd gone to the Old Haunt, and she didn't think she'd get a particularly warm welcome at the loft either.

That just left the precinct.

_Whatever else you are, you're an honourable man_, she thought. He wouldn't turn down a direct request for help on a case, and truthfully they could use his unconventional thinking.

They had been working a case during the past two days where a Russian immigrant had been murdered at a cleaning products factory. He was a night labourer there, loading chemicals into mixing apparatus. The body had been found the next morning, with acid burns to most of the exposed skin. There were no suspects, and no clear motive. They were still checking a few possible leads, but Beckett had that feeling that they were about to stall. They needed fresh eyes, and a sharp mind.

She nodded to herself, pushing away an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness as she unlocked her phone. She carefully typed out a message and sent it.

_**We could really use your help with a case, if you're not too busy. Could you come into the precinct tomorrow around 10AM? We're stuck.**_

She put the phone down on the coffee table and licked her lips nervously. Castle almost always replied within half a minute, but this time the device sat silent and unmoving until its screen automatically dimmed and then went completely dark.

Beckett glanced at the clock on the wall periodically as she resumed pacing around her living room area. She could all too easily imagine him wrestling with whether or not to ignore her message, and she knew that he would be feeling conflicted about it.

_I guess I'm manipulating him again_, she thought, feeling another stab of guilt. _But I'm out of options._

More than ten minutes had passed when the device simultaneously chirped and buzzed, moving slightly across the wooden surface of the low table.

She snatched it up and swiped along the screen to read the message.

_**OK**_

"It's not much, but it's a start," she said. She was tempted to reply and thank him, but she was wary of pushing her luck. She would hopefully see him in the morning, and then… well, then what?

"Then I start doing what I should have done a long time ago."

She turned the keyring over in her hands again, tracing the edge of the rubbery, flexible plastic with her thumb. She thought for a moment, then crossed quickly to the countertop where her wallet and car keys sat.

She picked up the small set of keys, carefully threaded them onto the keyring, then set them back down.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note: Writing this piece has been a strange experience so far. I love angst stories (as long as they have a happy ending), and I wanted to explore how Beckett would respond if the power-balance in their relationship was flipped. I think that most people feel she didn't treat Castle very considerately, once she knew the depth of his feelings for her.**_

_**Some reviewers are clearly harbouring some anger about that aspect of the show, and I can understand the reason for that. I do think she truly believed she wasn't ready, and I know that a lie can gradually become a trap. I have a lot of sympathy for both of them, and their positions.**_

_**The more I write this, though, and the more I put myself into her mind as she's suddenly abandoned by this man that she now knows she's in love with, the more I realise the sheer scale of the inequality in their relationship. It beggars belief how he allowed it to go on for so long, and a lot of that was his own fault too. It takes two people for that kind of systematic, long-term imbalance to exist. I really do think that she'd be shocked, again and again, as she had an abrupt awakening to his perspective on what their relationship had become. Ultimately, that's her motivation here: not the guilt itself, but the reality that she can now see.**_

_**He's not responding very sensibly either, of course, but I do think he's responding believably. Being a man-child has its downsides too, even though the show rarely deals with that. Beckett has a lot of work to do, and she's earned every bit of it.**_

_**I can't help but feel sorry for her, despite everything. She does love him, and that counts for a lot. She's also an exceptionally strong and attractive woman, and rightly or wrongly, that counts for a lot with me too. Like Castle, I'm a guy first, and a writer second. Seeing her so distraught isn't easy.**_

* * *

><p>The coffee shop was still surprisingly busy, even though it was after the morning rush. Beckett glanced at her wristwatch, seeing that she still had another 25 minutes until Castle would be arriving at the precinct.<p>

She was almost at the front of the queue now. She looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the place.

_He comes here every morning_, she thought.

This was the coffee shop where he bought their morning coffee, bringing it with him to the precinct practically every day for the past few years. It wasn't the closest coffee shop by any means, but he insisted that they made the best vanilla lattes.

She had only been here a handful of times, and never without him. He always brought the coffee, and usually a bear claw for her breakfast too. She tried to total up the amount of time he must have spent standing in this very queue, but the numbers quickly became too high to think about.

She reached the counter and placed her order with a bright-eyed blonde barista whose name tag indicated that she was called Laura. The girl raised her eyebrows slightly at the order, then smiled.

"Something wrong?" Beckett asked, returning her smile, and the girl shook her head.

"Oh, no, not at all," she replied. "It's just weird. Your order… it's exactly the same as one of our regulars."

Beckett felt her heart rate increase. "Oh?" she said.

"Yeah, this _really_ cute guy!" the girl replied, flushing slightly. "Tall. Brown hair, blue eyes. Always dresses really nice – he wears a lot of blue shirts. _Great_ smile. He always places that same order, for years now, longer than I've worked here. I think he's on vacation right now. The girls here all look forward to seeing '_Mr. Beckett'_ in the morning."

Laura leaned across the counter, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he's _Richard freaking Castle_. The writer?"

Beckett nodded, wide-eyed, unable to come up with a coherent response.

"I think he just likes to keep a low profile," Laura said. "I've read all his books. You should try them!"

"I'll… keep that in mind," Beckett replied at last, plastering what she hoped was a convincing smile across her face.

_Oh god_, she thought.

She clasped her hands tightly together to stop them shaking.

_The girls all look forward to seeing 'Mr Beckett' in the morning. I'm pretty sure he's Richard freaking Castle_.

It was a long-running joke between Ryan and Esposito. The coffees Castle brought to the precinct always had "BECKETT" written across them in black marker, and for the brief half hour or so before Castle had finished his, Esposito in particular would always address him as _Mr. Beckett_.

Castle took it with quiet good humour, and had never once let on that it was because the first time he'd brought her coffee, the cups instead said "CASTLE", and she'd raised an eyebrow and told him _I don't want _your_ name on _my_ coffee, Castle._

The next morning, her cup bore her own name, and had done so ever since.

She'd had no idea that the staff at the coffee house assumed that it was the famous author's way of remaining anonymous. They no doubt addressed him by that name too, as a valued regular customer. And he doubtless bore it with the same good humour, so that her own name would always be on her cup.

Add that to the fact that he was obviously – and politely – fending off the attentions of the entire female portion of the coffee shop's workforce, every day, for years, just so he could bring her a decent latte.

She bit her bottom lip and willed herself to hold it together.

Thankfully Laura seemed to realise she was holding up the queue, and finally took Beckett's payment.

"And what's the name?" the girl asked cheerily.

"I… I guess… 'Castle'?" Beckett replied, feeling her cheeks colour, and she gave a weak smile as the barista laughed and nodded.

"A girl can dream, right?" Laura replied, and Beckett forced a small laugh in return, then moved quickly to the other end of the counter, keeping her face carefully blank.

Her trip to the coffee shop to bring _their_ coffees for the first time was meant to be the first tiny step towards paying him back for all he'd done, and starting to show him what he meant to her. Instead, she felt like her debt was now deeper than ever.

_How many other things like this don't I know about?_

Her order was ready a few minutes later, and she gratefully took the two coffees – both with _Castle_ printed on the side – and left.

Ten minutes later, she was in the elevator in the 12th, ascending towards the homicide department. It was still a few minutes before 10AM.

The doors opened and she took a steadying breath before stepping out. She was wearing a lilac blouse she'd seen him take notice of before, and she had spent some extra time on her hair that morning. She felt vaguely ridiculous about it, but she kept reminding herself what was at stake.

As she approached the bullpen, she saw that Ryan and Esposito weren't at their desks, then her own desk came into view and her step faltered for a moment.

Castle was sitting in his chair, facing away from her, fiddling with his phone.

It looked so heartbreakingly _normal_ that she had to blink back sudden tears.

_Get a hold of yourself, Kate_.

She took another calming breath, then resumed her pace towards him.

"Hey," she said softly as she reached her desk.

She saw his jaw tense slightly, then he looked up at her, his expression completely neutral.

"Morning," he replied.

She felt her heart sink again at the lack of any warmth in his tone, after so many years where his face would light up every time he saw her, but she swallowed her disappointment and smiled at him, holding out one of the cups towards him.

He frowned slightly as he looked at it, then he blinked.

"Uh… thanks," he said cautiously, taking it from her. She saw that he was careful not to let their fingers touch. He lifted the cup towards his mouth, but then his hand froze in mid-air as he saw the word _CASTLE_ printed in black marker along the side.

His eyebrow twitched, then she saw his eyes become unfocused for just a moment.

_I don't want your name on my coffee, Castle_, she thought, again feeling a stab of guilt.

His face became perfectly blank again as he lifted the coffee to his mouth and took a sip, before half-turning in his seat to set it down on the edge of her desk.

Beckett took a long swallow of her own piping hot coffee, glancing at him from under her eyelashes just in time to see his gaze fix for the barest moment on the side of her cup. A look of confusion passed over his face and then immediately vanished.

"So," he said, turning his attention to the murder board without getting out of his seat, "You said you had a case?"

_Right down to business_, she thought.

"Yeah, and it's a little weird."

She saw the corner of his mouth twitch, and the barest hint of that old sparkle appear in his eyes, and she held her breath for the quip she could see coming. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she physically _needed_ him to make whatever joke he had in mind.

_Say it_! she thought. _Please, whatever it is. Say the weird ones are your favourites! Say the weirder the better. Say we've already seen some pretty weird stuff. Say _something_, because I can't take seeing you like this._

He didn't speak. He seemed to deflate a moment later, the hint of mirth just sliding off his face to be replaced with tension.

A moment later, he nodded. "Well, let's see what you've got so far," he said, then he stood up and walked over to the board.

She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. It turned out that the only thing worse than him _not_ being there, was him being there but like this. The Castle she knew was so close, but completely unreachable. This was a different man, surrounded by walls much higher than the ones she'd used to keep him at arm's length in the past.

_I'm not sure I can do this_, she thought, feeling panic rising in her throat, then she reached for her coffee and took another mouthful, letting the liquid burn her throat as it went down.

_He's worth it_, she told herself. _He's worth it, and this is day one. Show him, and don't stop showing him until he sees._

She glanced over towards the board and saw that he was carefully inspecting everything on it, absent-mindedly tapping one forefinger against his chin.

_I'm going to get through to you_, she thought, then she set her coffee down and walked over to stand beside him.

"Listen, thanks for coming in today," she said. "I really appreciate it."

"Mm," he replied, without looking away from the board.

"How's the writing going?"

"Fine," he said, shifting his weight to the other foot.

_He's worth it_, she thought.

"We missed you last week," she said quietly. "_I_ missed you."

She sensed rather than saw him tense up beside her, and several extremely uncomfortable seconds of silence passed. She was just frantically trying to think of something else to say when they both heard Esposito's voice coming from the other end of the bullpen.

"Hey, if it isn't the man himself!"

They both turned to see Esposito and Ryan walking towards them, one carrying a case file and the other holding an evidence bag.

"Hey Castle," Ryan said, with a smile that clearly conveyed how happy he was to see the other man. "You here to work on this acid guy case?"

"I think so," Castle replied, offering the two men a tight smile. Beckett was both relieved and dismayed to see it. "Beckett was just about to bring me up to speed."

"Cool," Esposito said. "You do that, then we've got something to show you two."

Castle nodded, turning his attention back to the board with only a small glance in her direction. She sighed silently, and squared her shoulders.

"Here's what we know so far…"


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note: A brief chapter, after a long day. My last author's note generated a lot of discussion in the comments, which is interesting, and also a few nasty, anonymous ones too (now removed). That's a little disappointing. Maybe I should switch off anonymous comments.**_

_**Anyway, Beckett has a lot of work to do, and it won't be easy.**_

* * *

><p>Castle ate methodically, only half listening to Ryan and Esposito's banter.<p>

The four of them were in the break room, eating a lunch of deli sandwiches that Ryan had picked up fifteen minutes earlier. They had fresh cups of coffee at their elbows, and for the moment they had the break room to themselves.

They were finally making some progress on the case. Castle had noticed a discrepancy in the employee rota at the factory, with a worker who had called in sick nevertheless still showing up, and clocking in for around 20 minutes at 3AM before clocking out again. Uniforms were tracking the man down.

Castle took a sip of his coffee, taking the opportunity to glance across at Beckett. She was watching him as she ate, and her eyes widened slightly as he caught her looking at him. She gave him a tentative smile, and he immediately dropped his gaze.

He again noticed the lilac blouse she was wearing. She'd worn it on three previous occasions – he remembered each one clearly – and he had always appreciated the feminine colour on her. It contrasted well with her hair and eyes, and softened her appearance. It was one of his favourite Beckett outfits. Or at least, it used to be.

_There's something different about her today_, he thought.

She had been more careful around him; she had deferred to him more than usual. The coffee cups were the first thing, but he'd interpreted that as a peace offering. _Because she knows something has changed for me._

While they were working at the murder board, she'd taken great pains to listen attentively to everything he said. She had also touched him on the arm a couple of times, until she saw that it was making him uncomfortable.

He risked another glance up at her, and she was still watching him. This time, she was the one who dropped her gaze.

A few minutes later, another detective came to the door of the break room to fetch Esposito, because a call had come in for him. Ryan had gone to the men's room just beforehand, so Castle and Beckett were left alone for the moment.

He had finished eating, so he folded up his sandwich's wrapper and put it into the brown paper bag sitting on the table before reaching again for his coffee.

"So," Beckett said.

_Please just let me finish my lunch in peace_, he thought.

When he didn't respond after a few seconds, she continued.

"Good catch on the guy at the factory who was supposed to be off sick."

"You'd have found it," he said.

"Maybe," she replied. There were a few moments of silence.

"I appreciate you being here," she said quietly, and he quirked an eyebrow.

"This is what we do," he replied.

She glanced down at the table's surface, considering her words.

"Yeah, but you're…"

The silence stretched out for several seconds, and Castle felt his muscles tense.

"…busy, right now," she said at last. "With your writing. I appreciate you taking the time to help us out."

He nodded slowly, taking another sip of coffee. He still hadn't looked at her.

"What I mean is, I know I haven't always taken the time to say thank you for everything you do. I almost _never_ have, actually," she said, and now he did meet her eyes.

"So… thank you," she said, keeping eye contact and willing him to understand.

His brow furrowed slightly, then after another moment he shrugged.

"It's important work," he said, looking down at his coffee cup.

"I'm not just talking about the work," she replied.

His jaw tensed, but he didn't look up again, and a few seconds later both Ryan and Esposito came back into the break room.

"Uniforms are bringing that guy up right now, Beckett," Esposito said, grabbing the remains of his sandwich and quickly finishing it off.

"Got it," she said, still looking at Castle. "Put him in room two."

"Uh-huh," Esposito replied, leaving the room again.

Ryan glanced from Beckett to Castle and back again, then picked up his own cup of coffee.

"You want to sit in on the interview?" Beckett asked, clearly directing the question at Castle, but he shook his head.

"You can work better without me tagging along," he replied, then he swallowed the last of his coffee and stood up.

_That's not true, Rick_, she thought. She opened her mouth to speak, then remembered that Ryan was still in the room.

"Well, you can watch from observation," she said. "In case I miss anything."

_You missed a lot of things_, he thought, but he just nodded and then left the room.

Beckett glanced over at Ryan, and saw that he had a worried expression on his face.

"What's going on with him?" Ryan said, and Beckett sighed.

"It's… just leave it with me."

"Sure thing," he replied. "We're, uh… we're here if you need us."

She gave him a grateful smile, which he returned before walking out into the corridor, leaving her alone in the break room.

_I don't even know if I'm making things better or worse_, she thought.

She shook her head, then pushed her worries aside for now. She had work to do.

* * *

><p>Beckett stretched, wincing as her neck made a cracking sound.<p>

It had taken almost an hour in interrogation to find out that the night worker had been paid $200 to loan his ID smart-card to a man who said he was a journalist working on a story about environmental contamination from the factory. He was told that no-one would find out, and he'd have the ID card back by the following morning – which he had indeed, finding it on the floor just inside his apartment's front door when he woke.

Ryan and Esposito were pursuing some leads, but it was slow going and it was already after 7PM.

She looked up from her desk and over towards the murder board. Castle was standing there, jotting down some of his thoughts in red marker. His jacket was folded over a nearby chair, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.

She wanted nothing more than to walk up behind him, lay her head against his broad back, and put her arms around his waist. She closed her eyes as she pictured it, resting her chin on the palm of one hand with her elbow propped on the desk, and the mental image was incredibly vivid. She knew exactly how it would feel, and even how he would smell.

She sighed deeply, taking some comfort from the thought and allowing a small, sad smile to play across her face.

Castle put the cap back on the marker and returned it to the tray below the board, stifling a yawn. He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that the time was 7:17PM, and right on cue his stomach rumbled.

He turned towards the bullpen and then froze in place.

Beckett was sitting at her desk, and it looked almost like she was asleep. Her chin was propped on one palm, her eyes were closed, her hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, and she had the ghost of a smile around the corners of mouth. He felt like an arrow had pierced his chest.

_Damn it_, he thought, feeling bitterness well up inside him.

This was exactly why he hadn't been around the precinct recently. The very last thing in the world he needed right now was to see her each day, and be reminded of how he still felt about her.

_All I wanted was to stay away long enough that this won't hurt so much_, he thought, his shoulders slumping. _And now I'm working a case again_.

Beckett opened her eyes at that moment, her gaze immediately going to him. She looked across the narrow bullpen towards him, and her smile faded at the same moment her heart rate increased.

_Oh Rick,_ she thought. _You look so… broken._

He busied himself with fetching his jacket, then shrugged it on, a frown creasing his brow.

"It's late," he said, pointing vaguely towards the elevator. "I'm gonna head home."

She nodded, rising from her chair. She didn't step away from her desk.

"Thanks again for your help today," she said, and he nodded. "Will you be in tomorrow?" She didn't even try to keep the hopefulness out of her voice.

He took a measured breath, his eyes briefly tracing across her blouse again. His frown deepened, then he tilted his head towards the murder board behind him.

"Still got work to do," he said flatly.

She nodded again, slowly, not breaking eye contact, then she took a single tentative step away from her desk and towards where he stood.

"Well, 'night," he said quickly, and then he strode off towards the elevator without looking back.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's note: Happy Hallowe'en! Except that this chapter isn't happy at all, and was pretty heart-breaking to write. Poor Castle! Poor Kate!**_

_**They still have quite a journey ahead of them, but they do love each other, and I'm a big fan of happy endings. They'll get there somehow.**_

_**All the reviews and kind words are very much appreciated.**_

* * *

><p>Castle leaned back in his desk chair, staring at the ceiling of his office. The room was dimly lit, and he could hear the subdued clatter of his mother and Alexis preparing dinner out in the main open-plan area of the loft.<p>

He had excused himself to jot down a few notes based on the current case, but in reality he just wanted a few minutes alone to decompress after being at the precinct, and to put on a positive face for Alexis.

Today had been difficult.

It had become marginally easier to stay away from Beckett during the last couple of weeks, but it took all his willpower to maintain his composure when he was actually in her company.

_She wasn't making it easy, either_, he thought.

It was obvious that she knew something was wrong, and she was being cautious around him. He half-expected her to take him aside at some point during the day and ask him about it, but she hadn't. He had put his phone on silent as soon as he left the precinct, but that didn't stop him checking it every half hour since then anyway.

He mentally tallied up the instances of unusual behaviour he'd noticed in her today.

_The coffees from the usual place, but with my name on them. The way she was at the board. Saying thanks for being there, at least three times. Watching me all the time. Saying they'd missed me last week. And none of the usual teasing._

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Like she's worried," he muttered.

_Worried about what?_

"About… I don't know."

_Follow the evidence._

He frowned. It was simple enough, really. He'd been gradually withdrawing from his work at the precinct, and she was being careful not to upset the apple cart, in case he left for good.

_I don't even blame her_, he realised, his eyebrows rising slightly. It would be strange if she _wasn't_ worried about him quitting the precinct.

Their close rate was the highest in the department, and probably the whole precinct. He had connections that were often useful. And he was an asset to their investigations, much as they might occasionally pretend otherwise. Then there was the attention he had always lavished on her, without pushing for anything in return.

_When you think about it, she must be very worried indeed._

"Well, that ship has sailed," he said quietly to the empty office. She hadn't done anything, and he had no desire to hurt her. Even the thought of it raised an ache in his chest. But she couldn't have it both ways.

_It's not her fault she doesn't want a relationship with you_, his mind said, and he shrugged. That was true enough.

"But she can't expect me to just wait around forever, either."

_Also true_.

"So it's settled. Finish the case, and then…"

_And then?_

"Then… figure out my next step. Get away from it all, for a while. Focus on my real job."

_For a while, or forever?_

He felt goosebumps break out along his forearms at the thought of never seeing her again.

"Until I don't love her anymore," he whispered.

His mind was silent for many moments, then the question seemed to echo around him.

_When will that be?_

"I honestly have no idea."

He heard a light knock, then the office door slowly swung open, letting in a band of light from the kitchen and living room. He squinted at the brightness, seeing the silhouette of his mother standing in the doorway.

"No idea about what, darling?" Martha asked, taking a moment to locate him in the gloom of the office.

"Just some dialogue I'm trying out," he said. "Sorry, I should be helping with dinner."

He walked around his desk and crossed the room towards her.

"It's almost ready," Martha replied. "You can set the table."

He nodded, but she didn't immediately move to let him past, instead fixing him with a contemplative look.

"Richard, is everything alright?"

His eyes widened, and then he smiled.

"Everything's fine," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

Martha tilted her head slightly to the side, examining his face carefully.

"If you say so," she said at last. "And how is Kate? We've not seen her in a while."

He allowed his face to go completely blank.

Martha Rodgers was a perceptive woman, but that didn't mean he had to talk to her about it.

"Same as usual," he said, with the barest hint of a shrug.

Martha looked at him, and several emotions flitted across her eyes in quick succession.

"Well, let's have dinner, shall we?" she said, reaching out to place her hand on his elbow, and he smiled as widely as he could.

"After you," he said, and he followed from the darkness of his office out into the bright, artificial light.

* * *

><p>Beckett knelt on the carpeted floor of her bedroom, rummaging through the open drawer of her bedside table.<p>

It was a deep drawer, made of oak on solid steel runners, with an elegantly-carved inlaid handle. It held all manner of things, including everything from a packet of tissues to hair-grips, a couple of bookmarks, a small paper notebook, a half-eaten packet of mints, a sleep-mask she rarely used, a spare iPhone charging cable and wall plug, several unmatched buttons, a small screwdriver with an LED flashlight built into the handle, two rubber bands, a folded leaflet about a charity for abandoned dogs, a Kindle with a dead battery, her birth control, a length of frayed blue ribbon, and a host of other miscellaneous items.

It also held a simple wooden jewellery box, a few inches thick, and it was this that she now lifted out and sat on the floor beside her.

It was her Castle box.

She unlatched the lid and lifted it up and back, revealing the box's contents. For the first time, the act provoked a bittersweet feeling – love for the man, and despair at how distant he'd become.

She ran her fingers over some of the beloved items sitting on the red velvet interior.

A napkin from Remy's on which he'd written his signature several times, to prove to her that he had a consistent signing technique and didn't just scribble his name on people's copies of his books.

A tiny, yellow plastic elephant that had been in a Christmas cracker at the precinct one year. It had been in Ryan's cracker, but Castle had traded him for a rubber ball, and given the elephant to her.

A disc of gold foil that used to be part of a candy wrapper, until Castle had carefully torn in into a circle, pressed it flat with the side of an empty mug, and carefully scratched _#1 Partner_ into it.

A yellow post-it note with a doodle of a UFO hovering over the Empire State Building.

A pale pink piece of heart-shaped hard candy, etched with the words _Be Mine._

Another post-it note, this time a blue one, with just a smiley face drawn on it.

An ordinary ballpoint pen, with blue ink, that had been in his jacket pocket. She had needed a pen while they surveyed a crime scene, and he'd given it to her. When she'd tried to return it later, he waved her off and told her to keep it.

A newspaper cutting, folded carefully, showing a grainy photo of the two of them arriving at the launch party for _Heat Wave_. He was standing by her side, immaculately dressed, and smiling proudly for the assembled media. She was wearing an emerald satin dress, and her hair was up. The sub-head of the article said "_Is it hot in here?_", and Castle had double-underlined it before leaving the newspaper open at that page on her desk.

The white plastic lid of a take-away coffee cup, with _Beckett_ written on it in black marker as usual, but this time with a small red love-heart before the name. Castle had added the symbol using one of the board markers on Valentine's Day two years before, and she had glared at him until he raised both his hands in surrender. She had left the empty cup on her desk all morning, and waited until he finally went to the men's room before snatching the lid and putting it into her purse.

A pressed wild flower that he'd picked from the railings along the edge of a small park on a blazing hot Summer day, and given to her (laid across the top of a coffee cup, of course) while she was reviewing one of Lanie's reports. When she raised her eyebrows at him, he just shrugged and wandered off towards Ryan and Esposito. Lanie had advised her to throw the plastic lid of the cup away before drinking the coffee, and she had, but she kept the flower and pressed it flat between the pages of a book.

A terrible drawing of a werewolf, facing down a stick-figure version of her, on a torn-out page of a spiral-bound notebook.

Yet another post-it note, with a stick-figure drawing of himself, hands on hips, wearing a billowing cape with a large C.

An I.O.U. for _One bearclaw, cherry icing_, written on half of an envelope and bearing his signature. For some reason, he'd added "Esquire" too.

The top hat from a Monopoly game, which she'd used when she thoroughly beat him, with Martha and Alexis close behind. He'd claimed that the piece was forever tainted, and he would no longer allow it in his home. He had stood up and taken it over to her jacket himself, putting it in an inside pocket before returning to the dining table in the loft with a smirk on his face.

Another newspaper clipping, this time from a book reviews column. The reviewer had been lukewarm in his enthusiasm for one of the Storm novels years ago, and when Castle had seen Beckett reading his column, he'd snatched the paper and meticulously gone through the section, circling examples of what he declared to be poor phrasing, sloppy sentence structure or inelegant vocabulary. He'd got bored about three-quarters of the way through, then gone back and drawn a goatee and spectacles on the journalist's photo.

One of those rubber bracelets that everyone was wearing a year or two ago, in pale lilac. The phrase _BE EXTRAORDINARY_ was imprinted onto it.

A black cable-tie, from when the new phones were installed on the desks in the homicide department. She had returned to her desk after filing a report to find that Castle had gone out to get lunch for the two of them. Sitting on her desk beside her computer keyboard was the cable tie, twisted into the shape of a ring, with the ends curled together in suggestion of the setting for a stone. When he arrived back with the food, the makeshift ring was nowhere to be found, and neither of them had ever mentioned it.

And plenty more. There were _Dilbert_ cartoon strips he'd torn from newspapers or even printed out at home and brought in for her. A shopping list he'd written for her, in her own apartment, after he'd bemoaned the state of her refrigerator and kitchen cupboards. Cinema tickets for a _Forbidden Planet_ screening he'd insisted he take her to. A polaroid taken by Alexis at Halloween, showing him dressed as Captain Kirk. A USB flash drive (in the shape of an electric guitar) with dozens of songs on it that he said were his favourite background music for writing. A beer mat from the Old Haunt. A small paper aeroplane made out of a blank yellow cover-form from an evidence bag, complete with go-faster stripes drawn along the wings. More post-it notes, with some of his favourite words written on them, complete with definitions.

She wasn't even aware that she was crying until she was startled by the drop of water falling onto her thigh, making a dark spot on her jeans.

She wiped her eyes, placing the last item she'd been holding – one of his private business cards, the ones with his own number instead of his agent's – carefully back into the box.

She sat back, leaning against the bed, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

_I've been so stupid._

She tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ears, and looked at the open box again. Some of what it held was evidence of his love for her, but the fact she'd kept it all was evidence of hers for him.

_What was I waiting for? Why did I wait too long?_

She shivered, hunching her shoulders against the soft edge of the duvet cover. After a moment, she reached out and laid her hand along the edge of the wooden box, trying to draw strength from it.

"I'm _not_ going to lose you, Rick," she said. "I won't let you go."

Her voice sounded thin and frightened against the silence of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

The case was finally closed.

The killer had been caught – the man who had paid to borrow the ID card – and he turned out to be a mob enforcer from the victim's native Russia, having only just tracked the man down after searching for almost two years.

The victim had apparently fathered a child with the daughter of a mid-level mobster in Moscow while working as a bouncer at an underground nightclub, then fled the country, fearing for his life. The mobster had since risen through the ranks enough to widen his search for the man who had turned his little girl into a single mother. The NYPD couldn't touch the actual Russian boss, but the hitman would probably never see his home country again.

By the time the paperwork was finished, it was just after 6PM. Beckett handed the file in to Gates's office with relief, and returned to the bullpen. Castle was standing near her desk, jacket draped over his arm, talking to Esposito.

It had been another strained day. She hadn't had time to go to the coffee shop on the way to the precinct because she was called in early by Ryan after they managed to get ATM footage of the mystery man dropping off the ID card after the murder. Instead, she wrestled with the elaborate coffee machine Castle had bought for the break room, and brought him what she hoped was a decent approximation of his preferred cappuccino. He had thanked her, and even given her something that was almost a smile.

The day had been hectic, with lunch eaten on the run. He had disappeared for half an hour in early afternoon, on the phone to his publisher, but he'd just been in a vacant interview room.

They had finally collared the suspect in a flea-bitten hotel after a wild drive across the city, and she was sure that Castle had noticed the _Nikki_ keyring dangling from the ignition of her Crown Vic.

He had been completely professional the whole day, neither avoiding her nor making any effort to speak to her about anything except the case. She had asked how Alexis was doing, and he'd paused for a moment before telling her that the girl was doing really well, and enjoying her classes.

Beckett made a remark about not having had a chance to catch up with his daughter in a while, and he quickly changed the subject.

Once the suspect had been arrested and processed, she caught him looking at her with a vaguely confused expression. She asked him if anything was wrong, and he shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak and her heart rate increased, but then he just excused himself and went to the men's room.

She had felt absolutely exhausted after lunch, but now after the arrested, interrogation, confession and the wind-up of the case, she was very much wired. It was usually like this. Judging from the animated way that Esposito was talking to Castle, and the loud laugh she'd just heard from Ryan, her team mates seemed to be feeling the same way.

She walked over to join the three men, and Ryan smiled at her.

"Another win for the good guys," he said. "That was a nasty one. I can't get over the acid thing."

"Well _get_ over it," Esposito replied, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "And don't talk about it anymore. I'm hungry, and I don't want to think about the vic ever again."

"Nice attitude, Esposito," she quipped, folding her arms. "But… yeah, I could go for some dinner too."

Castle tensed, shifting his blazer to his other arm.

"You wanna just go? We could eat and then get a couple of drinks. Celebrate putting that guy away." Esposito glanced around at each of them, and Ryan nodded twice.

"Jenny's visiting her sister tonight, so I'm a free agent," he said, causing Esposito to nod in approval.

"What about you, boss?" Esposito asked, looking at Beckett, and she swallowed, purposely not glancing towards Castle.

"Sure, why not?" she said. "Not like I've got anything in the fridge at home."

Her mind served up an image of the shopping list Castle had written for her so long ago, and she pushed it away.

"Boom," Esposito said. "So Castle, you're coming too, right?"

Castle shifted his weight, making a show of glancing at his wristwatch. "I should probably get home," he said.

Ryan frowned. "Isn't Alexis going to that play with Martha? Or did I get the wrong day?"

Esposito glanced at his partner and then raised an eyebrow at Castle, who frowned.

"Uh… oh, yeah. No, it's tonight, you're right. Must have slipped my mind. Well… sure. Yeah. I'm in."

Beckett's stomach twisted in discomfort, knowing that it was her that he was trying to avoid spending the evening with.

"Let's do this," Esposito said, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. Ryan followed suit, and Beckett went back to her desk to fetch her own coat. Less than a minute later, all four of them were in the elevator.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a relaxed affair, with burgers and milkshakes at Remy's. They managed to mostly avoid talking about the case, with a few brief exceptions, instead focusing on Ryan and Jenny's continuing home renovations, Esposito's current batch of PlayStation 3 games, and even a few high-society anecdotes from Castle about wild nights out with other famous authors.<p>

When the bill arrived, everyone reached for their wallets, and Beckett dumped her keys on the table while digging through her purse. Esposito glanced over at the sound, then raised an eyebrow and reached over to snatch up the bunch of keys.

"Seriously?" he asked, smirking as he held up the neon orange _Nikki_ keyring. All eyes were on him. Beckett was sitting on Castle's right, with Ryan and Esposito across the table.

Beckett glared at him for a moment, then she shrugged. "Castle gave it to me," she said, in a tone that made it seem like that explained everything.

Esposito looked at her, then at Castle, then back at her again. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ryan snatched the keys from him and pushed them across the table to Beckett, giving his partner a meaningful look.

"What?" Esposito said, and Ryan shook his head in exasperation, throwing a a twenty into the pile in the middle of the table.

"I could use a beer," Ryan said, and Esposito nodded in approval.

"Now you're talking," he said. "Castle? _Nikki Heat_?"

Beckett rolled her eyes, but she nodded. "I'm in."

Castle shrugged, which Ryan took as confirmation.

"I know a place not far from here I've been meaning to check out," Ryan said. "Or we can get a cab to the Haunt?"

"Let's try the new place," Castle said, and Ryan nodded.

By the time they had gathered their jackets to leave, Beckett was feeling more upbeat than she had in a while. She stole a quick glance at Castle who was standing near their table, and saw that he was looking relaxed and at ease, with one hand jammed into his pocket and a small, absent-minded smile on his face as he tapped away at something on his phone.

He followed on as Ryan and Esposito walked by, and Beckett fell into step beside him. He was still tapping away on his phone, but he automatically held the door for her on their way out.

They walked in silence, listening to Ryan and Esposito bickering – something about the greatest cop movie ever made – and within a few minutes they arrived at a friendly-looking Irish bar called _Mulligan's_.

They managed to get a table easily. Ryan and Esposito disappeared to the bar, leaving Castle and Beckett with their jackets.

She took a deep, calming breath and slid into the booth. He again chose to sit next to her, and with a flash of insight she knew it was because it would be easier to avoid eye contact there. She felt her heart sink, and she was surprised when he suddenly spoke.

"I didn't think you still had that thing." His voice was quiet, almost like he was talking to himself.

He pressed the Power button on his phone to put the device to sleep and started fiddling with a beer mat, not looking around at her. It was clear what he was referring to.

She reached into her purse and took the keyring out again, flexing the orange rubber between her thumb and forefinger.

"I keep everything you give me," she said, equally quietly.

This time, he did glance around at her, and his expression was one of mild puzzlement.

"That surprises you?" she asked, and he tilted his head – _A little_.

She looked him in the eye, willing him to understand. "It shouldn't," she said.

His gaze moved to her hands resting on the table, still holding the keyring. He was silent for several seconds.

_Danger_, his mind whispered. He'd been here before, many times. She would give him what he thought could be a sign, then she'd back off again. That's what had brought him to this point in the first place. It was a dance that never led anywhere – a holding pattern, as they endlessly circled each other.

_I'm done with it_, he thought.

"Original artwork by Richard Castle, only on eBay," he said at last, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He kept his eyes fixed on the table top.

"Or a yellow elephant from a Christmas cracker," she said, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers again. She was giving him the same look she had a moment ago.

"You _kept_…?" he asked, his brow creased. His gaze was suddenly intense, and unmasked.

She waited a moment before replying, not breaking eye contact. When she spoke, she did so slowly, as if explaining something to a child.

"_I keep everything you give me_," she said.

He slid very slightly away, giving himself room to half-turn towards her. She saw that he was scrutinising her face, and his eyes flashed as his mind tried to process her words.

She watched him wrestle with his own thoughts for several seconds. His face was pinched, and she could see confusion, suspicion, and a host of other emotions. Each one appeared for just a moment before being chased away by yet another. At last, he opened his mouth and took a breath.

"But–" he began, then he froze as a beer clinked onto the table in front of him.

Ryan and Esposito slid into the opposite side of the booth, distributing drinks as they went. Esposito shrugged off his jacket, then noticed the odd expression on Castle's face, and raised an eyebrow.

"We interrupting anything?" he asked cautiously, causing Ryan to glance first at him and then across at Castle and Beckett.

_Yes_, she thought.

"Nope," Castle said after a moment, then he picked up the cold bottle and took a long swallow from it.


	8. Chapter 8

Lanie arrived at the bar 45 minutes after everyone else, once Beckett had texted her the location. The two women were currently sitting beside each other, Lanie eating a late dinner she'd ordered from the bar, and chatting to each other in hushed tones.

The three men were across the room at one of the bar's several pool tables.

"So what's the latest with him?" Lanie asked, nodding in the general direction of the pool table.

"It's, uh, still early days, I guess," she replied, and Lanie huffed. Castle chose that moment to glance over at the table and noticed them watching them, and he hurriedly looked away.

"Girl, you don't have a whole lot of days left," Lanie said.

Beckett gave her a look that was partly exasperation and partly wide-eyed concern, before directing her gaze across the room to where Castle was standing at the head of the pool table.

He was currently playing against Ryan, with Esposito officiating and apparently providing critique and commentary. The women couldn't hear what was being said, but Castle suddenly burst out laughing after a quip from Esposito, and Ryan gave his partner a disgusted look and shook his head.

"He used to laugh like that with me," she said, and Lanie looked around at her sympathetically. "He's hardly even smiled at me in weeks."

"Have you given him a reason to?"

Beckett glared at her friend, and then sighed. "I'm really bad at this. You know I am."

"Mm-hmm, but that's always been 'cause you didn't really care if the guy hung around or not."

Lanie put her fork down, and half turned to face Beckett. "Listen, that man over there" – she nodded again in Castle's direction – "has finally got tired of waiting for you. I've only been here for thirty minutes and I can see it myself. He's itching to get out of here, because he feels like a fool."

As if on cue, Castle subtly checked his wristwatch, then did a quick survey of the state of the current frame of pool.

Beckett felt her heart sink. _He's gearing up to leave_.

"So I guess my question is," Lanie continued, "why the hell are you sitting here talking to me?"

Beckett gave her a brief, nervous glance, but Lanie just raised her eyebrows at her.

"I know you're scared, but the time for holding back is gone. You need to choose, Kate. Either make a play for him, or just let him go."

Beckett knew it was the truth. _Or he's going to walk right out of here, and soon enough he's going to walk out of my life_.

"OK," she said, taking a deep breath and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Send Javi back over to keep me company," Lanie said, "and good luck."

Beckett nodded, then stood up and walked over towards the pool table. She was just in time to see Ryan raise a fist in the air in victory, throwing his cue down onto the baize.

"Nice," Esposito said, feeding the birds with his partner as Castle politely applauded.

"How much did you lose, Castle?" Beckett asked, and his smile slipped a little as he looked towards her.

"Just some pride," he replied, sliding his cue back into the rack mounted on the wall behind the table.

"Lanie said you should go over and keep her company, Esposito," Beckett said, and Esposito threw her a quick glance of surprise before looking across the room at Lanie. He saw that she was watching him, and he shrugged and wandered off towards her.

Beckett looked pointedly at Ryan, and he excused himself to go to the men's room.

"How about another game?" she said, turning to Castle, and she saw that he was checking his wristwatch again.

He gave her a small smile and slid his hands into his pockets. "Actually, I should probably be going," he said, glancing towards the double doors at the other end of the bar.

Beckett sighed inwardly, and took two steps towards him.

"Just one game," she said, smiling.

She could see the discomfort on his face as he shook his head, again pantomiming a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You could play Ryan," he said. "He's feeling confident. Take him down a peg."

He reached for his jacket, and she took another step towards him and then laid her hand on his arm. He froze, and then looked up at her in surprise.

"I don't want you to go," she said quietly.

He blinked, and shifted slightly. "I'm… just a little tired."

"Tired of what?" she asked.

"Uh… you know, tired. Long day."

"I don't think that's why you're going, and I'm asking you to stay."

He licked his lips and swallowed, and she could see that he had been thrown by her words.

"If you really want to go, Castle, then go – but I'll leave right after you."

His brow creased in confusion. He didn't speak, but he didn't break eye contact either.

"I'm here to spend time with _you_," she said. "If you're leaving, then I'm done too."

He was silent for several seconds, then he finally spoke.

"That's blackmail," he said, without any anger in his voice. His tone was contemplative.

"So call a cop," she replied.

Castle's eyes flicked over to their booth, and the saw that Lanie was holding court with Esposito and Ryan, and none of them were looking over towards the pool table.

"What's this about?" he asked, returning his attention to her and glancing briefly down towards her hand on his arm.

"It's like you said: you're tired. You've been tired for a couple of weeks now. And I'm pretty sure I know what you're tired of."

He raised an eyebrow – _Oh?_

She nodded, letting her hand drop from his arm.

_You don't have a whole lot of days left_, she thought.

"You're tired of _me_," she said.

She saw surprise, then hurt, then sadness, then finally compassion flit across his face.

"Beckett, that's not–"

"I mean how I am. With you."

Castle sighed. He let his eyes fall to the pool table again, but he wasn't really focusing on it.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say," he said at last.

"Say you'll stay and play pool with me," she replied immediately, and he looked up at her again.

There was a strange blend of sadness, hope, and determination on her face. The subdued lighting of the bar cast golden highlights all down the brown curls that framed her face.

He groaned, and her eyebrows twitched as she heard it.

_Never did get the hang of saying no to you_, he thought, and then he slowly sat his jacket back down over a nearby chair.

"OK," he said in resignation, and she smiled at him.

"Fair warning, though," she said, as she turned away towards the table to rack up the balls, "I'm not bad."

_Why doesn't that surprise me?_ he thought, taking his cue down from the wall again.

* * *

><p>One game of pool became two, after Castle won a convincing if unexpected victory.<p>

Beckett had considered throwing the game, but she knew that he'd know, and in the end he'd won fair and square anyway. She was pretty sure she was off her game at the moment, but he seemed to loosen up slightly after winning, which wasn't a bad outcome.

Most of the conversation had been simple sportsmanship about each other's shots, with her doing most of the talking. He'd gradually started to contribute more as time went on, though, and the couple of beers they'd each had were also probably a factor.

They were only a few minutes into their second game when two men wandered over. They were in their early 30s, one in a printed t-shirt and the other in a blazer, and blazer guy's eyes were shining with more than just one or two drinks. His friend already looked embarrassed, and both Castle and Beckett sized up the situation immediately.

Castle rounded the far end of the table to line up his next shot, content to observe. _This is the part where blazer guy hits on her_, he thought.

It was something he'd seen dozens of times. She was usually polite at first, then sarcastic and dismissive, and finally – if necessary – the badge was guaranteed to make any prospective suitor beat a hasty retreat. It made for entertaining viewing.

_Except for the few times when it looked like she might be interested in the guy_, he thought, and frowned. He glanced up at the man in the blazer again, scrutinising him. Beckett was focused on the table, studiously ignoring the two interlopers until it was necessary to actually speak to them.

_He's her type, at least_, Castle thought. She went for tall, classically attractive, confident men, and blazer guy could probably pass for all of those things. His facial expression was a little sleazy, admittedly, but booze had a way of doing that.

_And what's it to you, anyway?_ his mind asked, and he grimaced, refocusing his attention on his shot.

Beckett was aware of blazer guy's approach in her peripheral vision, but most of her attention was on Castle. She saw him quickly scan the approaching man, then return his focus to the pool table while thinking for a few seconds, then she also saw the brief flash of… something. A dark emotion, like a cloud passing over his face.

Her pulse quickened slightly.

Blazer guy cleared his throat, and she rolled her eyes and then grudgingly glanced round at him.

"Hey," he said, with an easy smile.

She nodded in acknowledgement. T-shirt guy sighed silently, looking very much like he wanted to be somewhere else.

_Got to give him points for staying with his buddy_, she thought with some amusement.

"How's it going?" blazer guy asked, and this time she sighed audibly.

"Good," she said. "We're gonna be here for a while longer." She gestured towards the table, and blazer guy seemed confused for a moment before shaking his head and smiling again.

"Not interested in the game, darlin'," he said, taking another step towards her.

At the opposite end of the table, Castle slowly straightened up to his full height, keeping hold of the cue.

Beckett turned fully towards blazer guy, setting her own cue down on the edge of the table. She folded her arms and fixed the man with a piercing glare that she used when interviewing suspects.

"And I'm not interested in talking to you," she replied quietly.

Blazer guy's eyebrows lifted, but his smile still didn't fade. He wasn't aware that Castle silently loomed behind him.

T-shirt guy did see Castle approach, and put a hand on his friend's arm. "Let's just go get another–"

"In a minute," blazer guy replied, and Beckett shook her head.

"Take your friend's advice and quit while you're ahead," she said. Blazer guy opened his mouth to reply, but the words never left his mouth.

"I'd listen to her," Castle said quietly, just behind the man's ear, his voice rumbling with a mixed note of amusement and implied threat.

Blazer guy spun round, to be faced by a man who stood at least a couple of inches taller than him.

_This isn't like me_, Castle thought. He was peripherally aware of movement across at the table where Lanie, Esposito and Ryan were sitting, but he kept his eyes fixed on the man in front of him. He was also aware that Beckett was staring at him.

"Seriously, let's go," t-shirt guy said calmly to his friend, then glanced at Beckett. "Sorry. He does this."

She didn't acknowledge t-shirt guy at all. Her gaze was fixed on Castle. His eyes were dark, but they glittered with something unfamiliar.

Blazer guy ignored the exchange, instead sizing up Castle. "Listen, man–"

Castle suddenly leaned down towards him, and spoke very softly.

"She's a detective with NYPD homicide. So are _they_," – he nodded towards Esposito and Ryan, who had materialised a couple of feet away – "and I'm… having a bad week. So just turn around, and enjoy your evening."

_This isn't like me at all_.

He could feel the nervous tension of the day flowing through him, and also the alcohol. It was the kind of combination that attracted trouble. Even so, he hadn't felt quite this way in years. A part of him wanted the guy to start something. A part of him was looking forward to it.

Blazer guy seemed to become aware of his surroundings all at once. He blinked, then glanced over his shoulder at Beckett, then around at Ryan and Esposito, before finally looking at Castle again.

He nodded and shrugged at the same time, then turned and disappeared off towards the bar, with his friend following close behind.

There was a moment of silence, then Ryan tapped Esposito's arm and they both wandered back to rejoin Lanie, who had watched the entire thing.

Beckett unfolded her arms, looking at Castle contemplatively. "You OK?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Sorry," he said at last, and she raised an eyebrow.

"For?"

He exhaled, then reached up to scratch his ear. "Y'know. You could _easily_–"

"Yeah, I could," she said evenly. "But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it."

They looked at each other for a long moment, before he dropped his gaze with another nod, and returned to the opposite side of the table. He still hadn't taken his shot.

He leaned over the table, lining up the cue, and she watched in silence as he sunk another stripe.

She walked around to where the cue ball had come to rest, passed by him as he stepped away to give her room. She caught his wrist in her hand, and he glanced up at her.

"Thank you," she said softly.

She saw his throat working as he swallowed, and his eyes flicked down to her lips for a fraction of a second. A crease on his forehead appeared and then disappeared so quickly that she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it.

He gave the barest hint of a nod, and after a moment she allowed her fingers to fall away from his wrist.

He took a few steps towards the other side of the table and leaned against the wall there, his eyes focused on the floor.

As she leaned down over the table to take her shot, he didn't look up.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's note: A brief bonus chapter, written very slightly under the influence, because I'm grateful to all of you who are following along. I have a day off tomorrow, so this is like a rare mid-week version of Friday night for me. And, uh, I **_**will**_** be checking email.**_

_**They still have some way to go, because Castle isn't going to just ignore everything that's happened (or not happened) over the previous months and years. But he also has his own hopes and feelings to deal with. It's never simple for these two.**_

_**As my grandmother used to say, there'll be tears before bedtime. For now, though, let's rejoin them in that bar…**_

* * *

><p>The two games of pool became a best of three, which Castle narrowly won. Beckett accepted defeat gracefully, and they had both been back at the booth for almost an hour now.<p>

The evening was wearing on. Ryan was pleasantly drunk, sitting in the rear of the curving booth between the two would-be couples, and he was swaying slightly. He had a vacant grin on his face, and he appeared to be listening intently to Esposito, who was making an impassioned case for the merits of a cop's intuition. Lanie was having none of it, and was teasing him effortlessly.

Castle and Beckett sat together at the other end of the booth, with Castle on the outside, listening in to the conversation. She had a half-full glass of sauvignon blanc, and he had a barely-touched tumbler of neat whisky clasped in his right hand. Every few seconds, he rotated the glass slightly without being aware of it.

Beckett turned her head to look at him. His eyes were deep cobalt in the shadows of the bar's intimate lighting, and they sparkled with intelligence and amusement. She watched the muscles in his face react to what Esposito was saying, making minute shifts in his expression from moment to moment. She knew that he was bursting to interject, but that he was holding back because he was enjoying the spectacle too much.

He rotated the whisky glass another five degrees, tapping his fingers on the rim to a rhythm that only he could hear. She wasn't paying attention to the conversation across the table, but there must have been something particularly amusing, because suddenly the corners of Castle's eyes crinkled and he pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh, then he glanced down at the tabletop for a moment.

She felt a little drunk.

Just a little, but enough for her to notice. She was unusually relaxed, and feeling the buzz of the alcohol. Everything was very slightly brighter, and warmer, and just a little less focused than normal. She wasn't so aware of her general surroundings, and she was instead paying most attention to the man next to her.

He was sitting to her right, with his forearms on the table. His jacket had been transported from the pool table to now sit in a pile with her own coat, and Ryan's, Lanie's and Esposito's, on the wide shelf along the back of the booth just behind Ryan.

Castle's shirt sleeves were rolled up and bunched around his elbows, and if she turned her head a little to the right, she could smell both his aftershave and his whisky at the same time.

Her right elbow was barely an inch from his left, and she could feel the heat emanating from him.

She returned her attention to Lanie and Esposito just in time to see Lanie give her the briefest of looks across the table. It was a multi-purpose Lanie look that roughly translated as _Well?_

It could mean a dozen things. Tonight, right now, it meant something like _What are you just sitting around for, girl?_

She grinned at the pitch-perfect version of Lanie's voice in her mind, and the real Lanie across the table raised her eyebrows and returned the grin, before once again turning her attention to the verbal duel with Esposito.

Beckett reached for her wineglass, taking the opportunity to shift her right arm ever so slightly outwards until it rested against Castle's left.

She felt him tense, and a few moments later he lifted his whisky glass to take a sip of the amber liquid, then sat back against the seat cushion and removed his forearms from the table entirely.

She felt a twinge of disappointment, but she also felt bold – and a little reckless. She took a sip of her wine then set the glass back down and sat back in the booth, crossing one leg over the other so that the slight change in position brought her in contact with him from shoulder to elbow. She waited a moment, then shifted another half-inch towards him, resolutely not looking in his direction.

Castle's mind went utterly blank for five long seconds, then he forced himself to breathe. The movement only increased the gentle pressure of her upper arm against his, but she didn't move away. He thought about checking his wristwatch, but there was no way to lift his left arm without temporarily pressing even more closely against her.

_Probably time to leave_, he thought, then he felt his resolve crack.

A primal part of him said _Stay. Stop thinking._

His conscious mind warred with his instincts.

He heard her take a deep, contented breath, and felt her relax back into the booth's cushion beside him. He shut his eyes as he struggled against the two opposing forces within him.

_Pessimism. Fatigue. Rejection. Embarrassment._

_Hope. Instinct. Love. Lust._

He gripped the whisky glass more tightly.

_You already know how this ends_, his mind cautioned.

_But what if I'm wrong? _he argued back. _She's been… different. Hasn't she?_

_You're seeing what you want to see_.

He released the glass as his fingers began to cramp.

_Well maybe I prefer to hope for what I can't have, damn it!_

He was pulled from his thoughts by a scent that was familiar and heartbreaking all at once.

_Cherries_.

He barely had time to register the thought before he felt increased pressure against his shoulder, and her breath against his left cheek.

"Doesn't know when to give up," she whispered.

His pulse spiked, and he automatically turned his head slightly towards her. She was so close. Her lips were inches from his ear, and as soon as he turned he could smell her perfume, her shampoo, and the sweet scent of her breath.

"What?" he said, and he didn't like the slight roughness and the startled quality in his voice.

He met her eyes, and saw that they widened slightly. There was a flush in her cheeks. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips.

"I… uh, Espo," she said. "He doesn't know when to give up."

"Oh," he said hoarsely, swallowing as his gaze darted from her eyes to her lips to her hair and then back again. "Yeah."

_God I want to kiss you_, he thought.

_God I wish you would kiss me_, she thought.

They both flinched at a sudden loud cackle from Ryan, and they each tensed for a moment until they saw that the other man's focus was squarely on Lanie and Esposito across the table.

Ryan was laughing now with the kind of boneless, full-body mirth that was only possible while intoxicated, and Esposito gave his partner a toothy grin before turning back to his debate with Lanie.

Castle and Beckett both reached for their glasses at the same moment, and took steadying swallows of alcohol. She leaned forward to put her glass back on the table and he felt the sudden coldness of the loss of contact, but she was back a moment later – and he was sure she shifted towards him again, almost imperceptibly.

_This is trouble_, he thought. _Trouble with a capital T_.

He inhaled deeply, and laid his palms flat atop his thighs.

Beckett's gaze was focused resolutely on the tabletop, as she willed her pulse to slow. She could still see his lips, as clearly as if she was looking at them.

She slid her hands off the table and clasped them on her thigh. After a moment, she extended her right little finger to just brush the edge of his left hand.

She felt him twitch, but he didn't pull away.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's note: Over 550 follows on this story, and over 300 reviews. That's a nice feeling.**_

_**It's probably the angst that you all enjoy so much. I'm a die-hard romantic, and it's very difficult to not just decide that they've suffered enough, and throw them together. I'm trying to take it slowly, as probably befits Beckett's chronic resistance to opening up to people, and Castle's morose mood.**_

_**_**Thanks for reading.**_**_

* * *

><p>"I think I should go home," Ryan said, with the earnestness and gravitas of the truly drunk.<p>

Esposito glanced at his partner and grinned. "I think you're right."

Ryan nodded in satisfaction and began to stand up, before realising that he was in the middle of a circular booth and would have to slide out. He looked confused for a moment, and then he sighed.

Lanie laughed silently, then edged out of her side of the booth, followed by Esposito.

"This way, bro," he said, and Ryan got the idea after a moment.

"I'm gonna put him in a cab," Esposito said to the other three, and then guided his unsteady but extremely happy partner towards the door. Ryan was too far gone to even remember to say goodbye.

"He's gonna be less happy tomorrow," Castle said, and the two women nodded.

"Or when Jenny sees the state he's in," Beckett added, and Castle threw a brief smirk her way.

Lanie watched the two of them carefully, then she rubbed her hands together. "Well, I think I'm gonna call it a night too. I'll talk to Javi on the way out. It's been a great evening. Kate, I'll call you tomorrow."

Beckett nodded, a look of anxiety passing across her face very briefly.

"Night, Lanie," Castle said, and Lanie nodded in acknowledgement as she shrugged her coat on and gave them a last wave before walking off in the direction Esposito had gone.

Beckett glanced at Castle and gave him a small smile, and his eyes flicked towards the door.

"So…" she said.

They had been sitting side by side all evening now, and while it had become comfortable, she hadn't pushed too much further. She had touched his arm a couple of times during conversations, and he had seemed slightly puzzled. At one point, while they were all listening to Ryan clumsily tell a story about one of Jenny's friends, he had turned and fixed his eyes on her. They blazed with some powerful emotion, and he seemed to be searching for an answer. She had held his gaze for at least three or four seconds – an eternity for them – and when she tentatively smiled, he had looked away again.

"And then there were three," he replied, picking up his glass and swirling the tiny drop of whisky left in it.

"Yeah," she said, wincing internally at how lame it sounded.

"Maybe I should head home too," he said after a moment, and she felt her heart sink. Before she could reply, Esposito reappeared, but instead of sliding into the booth he just grabbed his own jacket.

"I'm gonna go share a cab with Lanie," he said. "Make sure she gets home safe."

Castle wasn't sure whether the other man was talking about himself and Lanie, or making a request regarding Beckett, but he nodded anyway.

"Take it easy," he said, and Esposito gave a jaunty, one-finger salute.

"You too," he said, nodding at both of them and then once again heading for the door.

The sudden silence was awkward, and she could feel Castle's discomfort returning. She considered challenging him to another game of pool, but she knew he'd just say he was tired.

"Then there were two," she said.

"Mm," he replied, swirling the glass one last time before setting it down.

_And that's the evening over_, she thought, pushing the disappointment away and instead forcing herself to remember that she'd at least tried to make some progress tonight. They were talking, and he was curious.

Before he could say that he was calling it a night, she turned to him.

"Want to share a cab too?"

He glanced up at her, reading her expression. He saw only genuineness, with a hint of vulnerability that he'd noticed several times that evening.

_That's the biggest change in you recently_, he thought, filing the observation away for later.

"Making sure I get home safe?" he asked after several moments, and she smiled in relief.

"Something like that."

"Sure," he said, reaching for both their jackets and handing hers over.

A minute later they were outside, looking around for a cab. She stood slightly closer to him that normal, shivering in the breeze.

A taxi pulled over after a couple of minutes, and they got in. Castle recited her own address first even though his loft was closer, and she opened her mouth to protest but he gave her a look and she just nodded instead.

"Thank you," she said quietly once the cab started to move, and he tilted his head in acknowledgement while still looking out the side window at the city rolling past.

"Twice in one night," he said, after another block had gone by. His voice was so low that she almost didn't hear his words, and she was confused for a moment before she realised what he meant.

_I've said 'thank you' twice tonight_, she thought.

She turned her head to look across the rear seat at him, but his face was turned away and hidden in shadow. She willed him to look around, and after several seconds she was surprised when he did.

"I should say it more often," she said.

He gave an almost imperceptible shrug, letting his gaze move past her to look out the window behind her head. "Only when there's a reason," he said evenly.

"There's _always_ a reason," she replied immediately, and he met her eyes again. That same look of vague confusion passed over his face, and she exhaled loudly.

"I've been taking you for granted," she said.

His gaze dropped to the empty section of seating between them for a second, then he faced forward again.

"I wouldn't say that," he replied.

"But we both know it's true," she said.

He didn't respond. She looked out her own window for a few seconds, seeing that they weren't too far from her neighbourhood, and she felt a needle of panic in her chest.

_Don't have a whole lot of days left_.

She turned to face him again, and reached across the seat to grasp his hand. He flinched, startled, then slowly turned his head to first look at her hand on his, and then to meet her eyes.

His face was partly hidden by the shifting shadows cast by each passing streetlight, but she could still read his expression with unsettling clarity.

_Suspicion, doubt, hurt… and maybe just a sliver of hope_.

"I want things to change. Between us, I mean," she said, blurting the words out before she could lose her nerve. His face hardened slightly and she hurried to continue.

"I know they've already changed. It's been… different… for a few weeks. I wish I knew what I could do. I don't like what's happened."

His eyebrows twitched, and she knew that expression too. _Me neither, but what choice is there?_

Castle looked across at her. Bundled up in her coat, with her large, dark eyes shining from the drinks she'd had and then the cold air, she looked younger and softer than she normally did. He felt an almost physical pain in his chest, and a wave of regret surged through him, so he closed his eyes.

_Wasted time and wasted opportunities_, he thought. _But it's not her fault either. She's lost something she actually had – a friend._

Maybe he'd find a way to forget his feelings for her. He had no idea how long it would take, but it was a project he could undertake on his own. In the meantime, at least there was the work. And he knew he couldn't bring himself to hold himself away from her when she was openly hurting about it.

_So just be her friend_, he thought. _Just find a way to do that. Maybe one day you'll even wake up and decide that's all you want._

He gave her a small smile. He was trying, but it came across as exquisitely sad, and she felt a crack appear in her own heart.

"So back to normal?" he said, looking at her again. He intended it to be a gesture, and he hoped it would be a comfort to her. He felt her fingers tighten around his.

"_No_," she said.

He blinked, thrown off balance again. He was about to ask what she meant when they both felt the taxi decelerate and come to a stop. They were outside her building.

She glanced out the window, and then back at him.

"I…," she began, then she caught sight of the curious face of the cab driver in the rear view mirror, and she suddenly felt very exposed.

Castle's brow furrowed.

_You could ask him to come in_, her mind whispered, and she felt another surge of panic.

_Terrible idea_, she thought. _Or great idea. I don't know! I'm no good at this._

She took a breath, and met his eyes again, still gripping his hand.

"I want to keep talking, about… this," she said. He gave a single, slow nod, and she exhaled in relief. "Can I call you? Tomorrow?"

"OK," he said quietly, and she gave him the best smile she could muster before finally releasing his hand. She looked at him for another long moment, then climbed out of the taxi and closed the door.

Castle saw the question on the driver's face in the mirror, and he nodded.

The taxi pulled away from the curb, and Castle glanced over his shoulder just in time to see her standing at the door of her building, still looking in his direction.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's note: You're all wonderful. I truly appreciate the response to this story. I'm having a beer at the moment, and I duly tip it ever so slightly in your direction.**_

_**Now, uh, here's the thing…**_

* * *

><p>Beckett dropped her purse on her kitchen table and kicked off her heels. She padded across to a window and pulled the edge of the blinds aside to look out, but Castle's taxi was already gone.<p>

She side her coat off, and she could smell just a hint of Castle's cologne from where she'd been pressed up against his left side for much of the evening.

Her phone buzzed and she crossed the room again to take it out of her purse, seeing that it was a text from Lanie.

_**Home now. Javi dropped me off first! You still there with your writer?**_

Beckett sighed and tapped out a reply.

_**Nope, home too. Shared a cab. Kind of started to talk, but didn't get anywhere. Going to call him tomorrow.**_

She saw the thought-bubble icon appear below her sent message immediately, indicating that Lanie was typing a reply. After several seconds, the new message slid onto the screen.

_**Well figure out what you're gonna say. No time like the present. Night x**_

Beckett slid the phone into her pocket and then fetched a glass of water before walking into her bedroom.

The duty rota for the week had been amended after today's case closed, and her team was off duty tomorrow. They'd only be called in the event of a major incident, and not for regular body drops. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant a rare three-day weekend.

On a whim, she picked her phone up again and typed a text to Castle, then sent it before she could think better of it.

_**Thanks for the cab - forgot to give you money. What time is good to call you tomorrow?**_

She set the phone down and then went into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed, and when she came back out five minutes later and pressed the phone's Home button to activate the screen, there was a message waiting.

Beckett swiped the banner and entered her PIN to unlock the device, and the message appeared.

_**Don't worry about it. Back to work on Monday.**_

She sighed in frustration. "We _are_ going to talk, Rick," she muttered to herself, typing quickly.

_**I really want to talk. I'll call at 10AM. OK?**_

This time it only took a minute or so for the reply to arrive.

_**OK**_

"Good," she said to herself, plugging the phone into her bedside charger.

She pulled back the covers and lay down, turning to face the windows along one wall of the bedroom. There was a low table running along that wall, and it had several of his books neatly lined up on it.

_Storm Rising_ was turned so that she could see the back-cover jacket shot of Castle. He was a bit younger in the photo, and she considered getting up to turn her copy of _Heat Wave_ around instead, but she just sighed and switched out the bedside lamp instead.

It was some time before she fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Castle dropped his phone onto his desk and put his palms flat against the mahogany surface, taking slow, deep breaths.<p>

With every inhalation, he could smell her perfume lingering tantalisingly around him.

"Trouble," he muttered, then pushed himself upright and walked back through to the open-plan living and kitchen area of the loft, switching on the cold tap. He stared at the stream of water for a few seconds and then flipped the lever to seal the plughole. The sink began filling with water, and when it was just over three-quarters full, he turned the tap off.

"Definitely trouble," he said, then he plunged his head into the icy water.

It did the trick. The scent of her perfume vanished instantly, and he felt his heart-rate slow.

Alexis watched curiously from halfway down the staircase, barefoot and clad in her pyjamas and a robe.

_Uh-oh_, she thought.

This was the beginning of a ritual that he had performed exactly twice before: when her mother left, and when Gina did.

Several seconds passed, and Alexis felt a swirl of panic in her chest. She started down the stairs but then froze again when she heard bubbles of air rising from the sink, and then she saw her father pull his head abruptly up and out of the water, taking a heaving gulp of air.

He took another couple of breaths in quick succession, blinking water out of his eyes, then allowed himself to just hang over the sink, droplets of water falling from his eyebrows, cheekbones and chin and spattering into the sink.

He pressed the lever again to open the plughole, and the water quickly began to swirl downwards and away.

"Better?" Alexis asked from behind him, and he spun around, leaving an arc of wetness across the tiled floor.

"Jesus," he said under his breath, looking at her for a long moment before reaching for a dishcloth and dabbing at his face.

"I didn't think so," Alexis said, then she walked over to the kitchen area and perched herself on a stool.

"I'm fine, pumpkin," he said, running the dishcloth around his jawline and then pressing it against his fringe, which was now plastered against his forehead. "How was your day?"

"Don't change the subject, dad," she said, giving him her best _enough of your nonsense_ look.

He smiled wistfully at her, and she knew he was remembering the past.

"Really," he said at last. "Nothing to worry about. I've just been doing some thinking."

"And drinking too," she said, sniffing the air melodramatically.

He shrugged. "Guilty as charged. Now why aren't you asleep?"

"It's not even midnight."

He glanced around at the clock on the nearby wall, and his eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Huh. Thought it was later. Feels later." As if on cue, he yawned extravagantly, and a moment later Alexis was yawning too.

"I think we could both use some sleep," he said, with an affectionate smile. He closed the distance between them and put his arms around her, and she slid her arms around his waist, her palms resting against his back and her right cheek pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart beating.

"I guess so," she replied. "But if you want to talk about anything, you know where I am."

He grinned into her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. "I'm pretty sure _I'm_ meant to be the adult here."

Alexis pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. "I'm very proud of you you for finally figuring that out."

He laughed, and felt some of the tension in his body slip away. He kissed her on the forehead, making a loud smacking sound, then stepped back.

She beamed at him, hopping down off the stool and crossing to the foot of the stairs. She turned and looked at him again.

"Dad?" she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Is everything OK with… Detective Beckett? And you, I mean?"

Castle carefully schooled his features from long practice.

"Fine, honey," he replied. "Everything's fine."

She looked at him for a long moment, then she exhaled. "OK," she said. "Night."

He waved at her retreating form. "Night."

He waited until he heard her bedroom door close before rubbing his eyes wearily.

_Got to get a grip, Rick_, he thought. _One way or another._

Beckett was going to call him at ten the next morning, and right now he had absolutely no idea how he felt about that. He walked through to his office again to fetch his phone, then continued on towards his bedroom.

The evening had been bizarre. Comfortable and normal on the surface, but actually intensely strained. And she had been behaving very strangely.

_Like she was flirting, but nervous about it. Or–_

He stopped dead just inside the doorway of his bedroom.

Was this some kind of pity play?

She knew he was pulling away, and it was affecting their working relationship. She also knew how he felt about her. If she was trying to bring him back into the fold by giving him what she thought he wanted, but she was uncomfortable about doing it…

He shuddered.

_No. That's not her._

He ran his fingers through his damp hair, feeling sluggish from the alcohol.

_She's got me completely messed up_, he thought. _Can't even think. Well, I'm going to take that call tomorrow, and I'm going to get some clarity. This has got to stop._

He flipped the mute switch on his phone and threw the device onto the bed. It bounced a couple of times before coming to rest near a pillow.

He kicked his shoes off and then undid his belt, coiling it up and sitting it on a side table. He was about to start undoing his shirt buttons when he heard a faint buzz from behind him.

He glanced around and saw that the phone's screen was lit up, then it went dark again.

"Not now, Kate," he muttered, nevertheless walking around the bed to pick up the phone. He pressed the Home button and the screen illuminated, displaying a banner indicating that he had a missed call ten seconds ago.

A deep crease appeared across his forehead and his pulse accelerated as he read the name printed beside the green icon.

_**Kyra Blaine**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's note: I was as surprised as you were when I saw who the missed call was from. That's the truth. I also mentally shouted NOOOOO at the idea of Kyra being back in touch, particularly now. Emotionally, she's a genuine threat.**_

_**That's the peculiar thing about writing. The words appear, and if they feel true, you have to go with them. I subscribe to Stephen King's theory that stories are "found objects", merely uncovered, cleaned, polished, and shared by the author.**_

_**They existed already… somewhere.**_

* * *

><p>The morning dawned bright and cold. A rime of frost coated the lower edges of the windows, and the apartment's central heating hummed and clanked as the metal radiators expanded. The sound woke Beckett with a start, twenty minutes earlier than her finely-tuned body clock usually roused her.<p>

"Ugh," she said, burrowing deeper into her duvet. She was drifting slowly back to sleep when she remembered the events of the night before, and she groaned, becoming fully awake in moments.

The clock on her night table said 06:47, but she sighed and threw back the covers anyway. It would be useless to try to get any more sleep, and she could use the time to work out what she was going to say.

She lifted her robe from the foot of the bed and pulled it on, then headed for the shower.

* * *

><p><em>Castle was back at the bar, just for one more game of pool before finally calling it a night. He had a difficult shot in front of him, and the whole place was silent.<em>

_He was at the head of the table, and Ryan and Jenny stood along the left side, with Lanie and Esposito along the right. At the far end, standing side by side, were Beckett and Kyra._

_His shot was for the win, but he was unsure who he was playing against. There were two blacks, somehow. One almost covered the right corner pocket, and the other was about two-thirds of the way towards the far end, closer to the middle. He knew that by angling the white, he had either a fairly good straight-shot on the right, or a more risky attempt to clip the other black and send it towards the left corner pocket._

_Beckett's hand rested on the wooden surround of the table, near the left side. Kyra's lay near the right. He had to choose._

_Instead of the twin dartboards that were in the actual bar, this time there was an elongated murder board, littered with photographs. Sorenson. Gina. Demming. Meredith. Josh. Kyra. Beckett. Montgomery was there too, and Gates. Ryan and Esposito, Lanie and Jenny. Even his mother and Alexis._

_There were crime scene photos of the loft, and Beckett's apartment, and the beach house in the Hamptons. The Old Haunt was there too, and an interrogation room at the precinct. There were even sets of cover art from the Nikki Heat series, but with Beckett instead of a silhouette._

_He drew back his cue, and froze._

_Left or right pocket?_

_Straight shot for a quick and unremarkable win, or a tougher shot with no guarantees even if it connected?_

_Esposito whispered to him. "Hey, Castle, are we interrupting something?" and Ryan burst out laughing. No-one else at the table seemed to notice._

_He felt a drop of sweat run down his back, and he inhaled deeply, drawing the cue back a little farther._

_He looked up towards the two women at the other end of the table, and he blinked several times. Beckett was looking at him with the same anxious half-smile she'd given him a few times recently, and she lifted her arm and opened her hand to reveal her iPhone. She seemed to be silently imploring him to understand something, but he was confused about how a phone could help him land the shot._

_His eyes flicked to Kyra, but she was out of focus; just a shape. He could see her eyes clearly for a moment, and then her mouth, and then part of her hair, but she always seemed to be mostly obscured by smoke._

_He became aware that there were two women standing at his end of the table, too – his mother on his right, and Alexis to his left._

_Alexis put her hand on his forearm, stopping the movement of the cue, and she gave him a meaningful look before directing her attention to the other end of the table._

"_Why are you doing this?" she asked, and he was shocked at the indignation in her tone. "You know he hates this game!"_

_Beckett looked down at the surface of the table, ashamed, but she held the phone up slightly higher as if it was an answer._

"_I don't understand," Castle said, and Beckett raised an eyebrow at him then threw the phone halfway down the table. He looked at it lying against the baize, and suddenly the screen lit up, and it was his own face that was shown in the caller ID._

_The banner across the screen said CASTLE, and the ringtone seemed to fill the entire bar–_

* * *

><p>He wakened with a start, sitting up and abruptly twisting around at the same time, so that one leg fell from the side of the bed, his foot hitting the carpet with a bump.<p>

His heart hammered in his chest, and it took a couple of seconds before he identified the sound of his alarm clock, and reached over to silence it. It's green LED display read 08:00.

"This just keeps getting better," he muttered, his hands curling into fists on the edge of the bed.

His mouth tasted stale and dry from the alcohol, and his head ached. He felt exhaused even though he'd been asleep for hours, and for the first time in quite a while he truly felt his age.

He dragged himself out of bed and went into the bathroom, wincing when he caught sight of his reflection.

_I look… used up_, he thought. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he could see lines on his face that usually weren't noticeable. Stubble crept up his cheeks, and his shoulders were slumped. He reached up and switched off the light above the mirror, then sighed and trudged over to the shower.

He stripped off his tshirt and boxer shorts and stepped gratefully into the high-pressure stream of hot water, resting his forehead against the tiles and allowing the water to batter down on his back and neck. His thoughts drifted back to last night.

He had stood for several minutes staring at the missed call notification, too surprised and uneasy to really think. He hadn't even begun to wondered whether to call her back when his phone rang again, and this time he had answered.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hello?"<em>

"_Rick? It's… Kyra. From–"_

"_What's wrong?" he asked, instinctively, and there was silence on the line for a couple of seconds._

"_Can't a girl just call an old friend?"_

"_Kyra…" he said, and he didn't like the weariness and suspicion in his tone, but he was too tired and drained to care._

"_Maybe I should be the one asking what's wrong," she replied. "You don't sound like yourself."_

You don't know me_, he thought. _You haven't known me in a long time.

"_I haven't heard from you in… what, years? Again? And it's almost midnight on a Thursday. Is… uh… Greg OK?" He had to scramble for the name._

"_Good memory," she said._

"_Thanks. Can you answer the question?"_

"_My husband is fine, and thank you for asking." Her tone was light, but he knew he had hit the nail on the head._

"_What's happened?" he asked, in a more gentle tone, and she sighed in that gaspy way she had._

"_Can I… come over?" she asked._

You've got to be kidding me_, he thought._

"_That's not a good idea," he said, and he knew immediately what her next question would be._

"_Oh," she said. "You're– I mean, of course you are. Is it that detective–"_

"_Jesus, Kyra, _no_," he said, and suddenly he just wanted to be in his bed asleep. "It's not. I'm not. She's not. There isn't anybody. It's still a bad idea, because you're married."_

"_Hey, if you think I was suggesting–"_

"_I'm tired. I've had a few drinks. And I'm having just about the worst few weeks I can remember, so can we please just get to the part where you tell me why you called me, out of the blue, at almost midnight, asking to come over? Because I would really like this day to be over."_

"_Well now I'm more worried about _you_," she said, and then sighed. "But… Greg and I… we're having some problems."_

And there it is_, he thought._

"_And you wanted to add to those problems by coming to my place late at night?" he asked, and there was silence on the line. A mean-spirited part of him enjoyed scoring the point, but he also felt shame. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Just… it's not a good idea."_

"_OK," she said quickly. "No, you're right. But I do want to see you. Can we meet, or something? Someplace neutral. Lunch? I just want to talk to you. Please."_

_A dozen scenarios ran through his head, but ultimately it all came down to a simple question: could he walk away when someone he cared about was asking for help? The answer to that question hadn't ever changed. He sighed._

"_Alright," he said._

* * *

><p>They had arranged to meet for lunch at 1PM. He groaned again, the sound lost in the steady white noise of the shower.<p>

_A double feature of women who broke my heart_, he thought._ This is going to be a hell of a day._

He reluctantly stepped out of the shower ten minutes later, dried off and threw on some casual clothes, then busied himself with making breakfast.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's note: (Yes, another one.) I've managed to depress the hell out of <strong>_**myself_ with Castle's predicament. That's the other peculiar thing about writing; you have to be inside a mood to write about it, and there's no practical difference between imagining an emotional state and actually feeling it._**

**_It'll all work out in the end, because these two are meant to be together. For now, I'm going to get some sleep._**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's note: This will be a tough day for Castle and Beckett, but it'll also be a turning point for their relationship. I brought Kyra into the story not as a mechanism for angst, but for Castle to get some perspective on his own feelings.**_

_**Anonymous/guest reviews are now moderated. FF is a different site than it was a few years ago, sadly. Or maybe it's just the story specifically.**_

* * *

><p>Beckett paced her apartment, giving herself a pep talk to stave off her rising nervousness. It was 09:51, and her phone sat ready on the coffee table.<p>

"You can do this," she said.

She had spent the best part of the last two hours thinking about what to say, and after many false starts, she'd realised that ultimately it was simple. She had to get things out in the open, instead of continuing their elaborate dance of subtext and innuendo.

_A dance he's walking away from_.

She had to address the elephant in the room: his genuine feelings for her, which were always there, just behind the flirting and the half-joking propositions. The feelings that were in his eyes whenever he said _always_, or even just when he brought her a cup of coffee each morning.

"I want another chance," she said, and felt her pulse race at the idea of saying it to him.

Then there was the really difficult part.

_Convincing him that I want to be with him._

She was completely unprepared for this conversation, but she had realised two important things during the few hours since she woke up.

_One: I'm scared, but I'm also relieved we're finally going to talk about this._

A part of her had always hoped that he'd bring it up again, and force her hand. Maybe one night at the Old Haunt, or in a quiet moment when they were companionably watching a movie at his loft, or even (slightly more safely) when they were talking on the phone at the end of a long day. If he'd just said the words again, she was pretty sure she would have jumped in.

_But I have no right to expect him to do all the running. It's my turn._

She glanced at the clock on the wall again – 09:55. She took a calming breath, and focused on the second thing she'd realised.

_Two: Being unprepared doesn't mean I'm not ready._

This epiphany had arrived while she was preparing her own coffee after she got out of the shower earlier, and thinking about how even the coffee at the precinct always tasted better when Castle made it. That thought was accompanied by a brief crying jag, then she had laughed at herself in embarrassment, wondering what he would think if he could see her like that.

Then the unremarkable fact slipped into her mind, fully-formed and obvious. She was ready, and she'd _been_ ready for a long time. She was just waiting for a push, or for some external confirmation of what she already knew: that she was already overdue to let him in.

It was now just two minutes before ten, and she had the sudden thought that maybe if she didn't call on time, he'd assume she wasn't going to. Then she wondered if he'd actually pick up at all, even if she called at exactly ten o'clock. _Then_ she wondered what she'd do if he didn't answer, and how many times she should try to call him again before giving up for a while, and then she looked at the clock and it said 10:00.

She hurried over to the coffee table, knowing full well how ridiculous she was being, snatched up her iPhone, and unlocked it. She tapped the Phone icon, and the Favorites screen appeared automatically. Castle was at the top of the list, and she felt a small but very welcome surge of confidence.

She tapped his name, and lifted the phone to her ear.

* * *

><p>Castle was sitting at his desk, staring blankly across at the closed door of his office, deep in thought.<p>

The lid of his laptop was shut, and the only other objects on his desk were an empty mug, and his iPhone.

The conversation with Kyra the night before already seemed like a strange dream. There was a time not so long ago – after the case where her now-husband was a murder suspect – when he had thought about her a great deal, but he knew that it was just their unfinished business. That rekindled infatuation had faded quickly, and in the fullness of time he'd discovered that his feelings for her were entirely in the past. She wasn't even the Kyra that he knew as a young man – that person was gone, and he wasn't sorry about it.

He frowned. Agreeing to meet her for lunch today was a very bad idea, not just because she was married, or even because she was _Kyra_, but because he was vulnerable at the moment. Of all the times she could reappear, this was perhaps the worst.

"It's just lunch," he said aloud to the empty office. "What's the worst that can happen?"

_You could fall in love with her again_, his mind suggested, and he snorted, then felt a chill run up his spine.

_There's zero chance of that_, he thought, and he knew that it was absolutely true. _Even with Kyra, of all people. There's just no chance. Because of Kate._

He grabbed for his coffee mug to distract himself, raising it to his lips before remembering that it was empty, and he sighed.

"I should become a monk," he muttered, and that at least made him grin distractedly for a moment. The grin faded when he again thought about why he was sitting in here, with the door closed despite both his mother and Alexis being out.

He tensed, wondering for the hundredth time what Beckett was going to say when she called, and he'd just started to replay the taxi ride from the night before when his phone suddenly buzzed on the wooden surface then began playing a distinctive ringtone.

_Crap_, he thought, reaching for the device after a moment's hesitation, and seeing that it was indeed Beckett who was calling.

He tapped to accept the call, and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Castle," he said.

"Hey," she replied, and he thought she sounded a little breathless. There was a brief pause, then she spoke again. "How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Fine. Well, not fine. I'm OK. A little nervous."

He raised an eyebrow. "About…?"

"This conversation."

He sighed, feeling awkward and also a little guilty, despite himself. _Just be her friend. Find a way._

He took a deep breath, and tried to put on his most breezy tone.

"Listen, I meant what I said last night, y'know. We should just forget all of… that stuff. Whatever it is. Get back to work after the weekend. I know I've been, uh, grouchy – my bad. You really don't need to say anything. OK?"

There was a moment of silence on the line again before she spoke.

"You stopped waiting for me, and I don't blame you," she said.

He felt his heart drop into his stomach. _Oh shit_, he thought. His veins filled with ice, and he had no idea if he was still breathing.

"I kept you waiting too long," she continued. "I'm so sorry."

He felt pins and needles break out across his face, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

_We're having this conversation now_, he thought. _This is… actually happening. The let-me-down-gently conversation. Now._

"Uh," he said, and he had to swallow to restore his voice. "There's… I mean, we really don't need to talk about–"

"Yes we do," she interrupted, her voice gentle but insistent. "The problem is that we never talk about it. And now you've moved on" – he heard her voice hitch, and his eyebrows shot up – "and I need to know if I'm… too late."

The quiet of his office seemed to become a high-pitched whine, and he could feel a tingling sensation in the fingers that held the phone. He could hear her breathing rapidly, and he forced himself to speak.

"I'm… not sure what you mean by–"

"_Don't do that!_" she cried, and he flinched. "You can't just walk away. Just… _please_ let me try and fix this."

His mind whirled with thoughts, all of them incomplete, but he couldn't help feeling a powerful need to comfort her.

"Hey, it's OK," he said gently. "We're OK. We _will be_ OK."

There was another moment of silence before she answered timidly. "What do you mean by that?"

He opened his mouth to respond and then exhaled loudly in frustration and confusion.

"I… don't even know! I don't know what _you_ mean, but I really wish you weren't upset. I mean that. I know it's kind of my fault, and… honestly, I sort of did this to myself. You shouldn't be… feeling sorry for me, or whatever. We don't have to–"

"_What?_" she asked, in a gasp, then there was absolute silence.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled again, and he scrambled to work out what he had said to provoke the reaction, but he could barely remember his own words. He rubbed his free hand on the knee of his jeans.

"_That's_ what you think?" she asked, and her voice was stunned and suddenly quiet.

"Uh…"

"This is always what happens," she said, and he knew she was partly talking to herself now. "This is always what we do. And I can't even _see_ you. Look, I'm coming over."

"Woah," he said. "Wait a minute. That's not a good idea. Let's just… talk. You wanted to talk, and we're talking."

"We should be having this talk face to face, Rick," she said, with tension in her voice. "I know what I need to say, and I don't want it to be over the phone. _Please_."

He felt a bead of sweat appear on his brow. _Why do I feel like I'm cheating on you?_

"Uh, well, maybe we could… get coffee or something. This afternoon. Later on, maybe three-thirty? What about that little place near your apartment?"

She sighed. She knew that he was stalling, and she could only assume it was because he didn't want her at the loft right now, and he'd feel uncomfortable at her apartment.

_At least he's willing to meet me_, she thought. But the afternoon was hours away, and she didn't want to wait.

"Well how about lunch instead?" she asked.

He froze. _Crap_.

"I'm buying," she said, trying to inject some levity into her voice, but he remained completely silent.

"Are you there?" she asked, and he grimaced before speaking.

"I've actually got a… thing, at lunch. A lunch. I'm meeting somebody for lunch, that's all. But later would be fine."

Her stomach twisted as her intuition and her own fears met.

"Oh," she said, in a barely audible voice. "Somebody?"

"A friend," he said, a little too quickly.

Faces flickered through her mind. Gina. Meredith. The actress who was playing Nikki Heat. The talk show host. Any of a hundred blonde fans. She swallowed.

"Anybody I know?" she asked, trying and completely failing to sound casual.

_Crap, crap, crap_, he thought, scratching his ear nervously. He exhaled.

She held her phone in a death grip.

"Actually, yeah, I guess you do," he said. "It's… Kyra Blaine."

The name fell like a stone into the silence.

He pressed his phone painfully close to his ear, listening for any sound, then he flinched again when she spoke.

"_Oh god_," she said, in what was almost a sob.

His heart clenched, and he was babbling before he was even aware he was going to speak.

"She called last night, after I got home. She wanted to come over, and I said no, but she wanted to talk. Apparently her and Greg are having some problems. She just wants to talk to somebody about–"

"This is a nightmare," Beckett replied, and the peculiar tone of her voice scared him. "I knew this would happen."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first.

"Is she coming to the loft?"

"What? No. No way. That'd be crazy."

"I'm sorry. I've got no right to ask. This is just… so totally… us."

He frowned, warring against himself. Her behaviour was completely out of character, but a picture was beginning to come into focus. He felt off-balance, and he desperately wanted to ask her a dozen questions, but he couldn't keep hold of them long enough to work out which words to use. He felt like he'd been on the phone for hours.

"I think we do need to talk," he said. "But I have to go and meet her – she asked. She called me at night, out of the blue. And… I know what you're thinking. I know what she's like too. She's a part of my past. She's married now."

"You've been married before," Beckett replied, and he blinked.

"It's just lunch," he said, with a sigh, then he heard her sniff.

_Are you crying?_ he thought, feeling his pulse accelerate abruptly.

"Will you come to my apartment after you have lunch with her?" she asked. Her voice was small, and he felt guilt tear through him, then he felt angry at himself for feeling guilty.

"Beck– _Kate_…"

"Just tell me you'll come to my apartment. Don't text me or call me to cancel. Just–" she stopped, and this time he could clearly hear the tears in her voice.

"OK," he said quickly, trying to put a smile in his tone. "I'll be there, I promise. I'll even bring coffee. OK? I should be done before three. And we can talk."

"Thank you," she said.

"Three times in two days," he replied, and he heard her sniff again.

"I guess you should go," she said, taking a deep breath, and he nodded even though she couldn't see him.

"I'll be done by three," he repeated, and he wasn't surprised to realise that he meant it. Even if he had to leave Kyra in the restaurant.

_Because that chapter has been over for a long time_, he thought.

_Which chapter are we on right now?_ his mind asked, and he only frowned.

"Rick?" she asked, bringing his attention back to the call.

"Yeah?"

There was a long pause; almost long enough to make him wonder if they'd been cut off.

"Please don't kiss her," she whispered, and then the line went dead.


	14. Chapter 14

Castle saw her as soon as he walked into the cafe. Kyra was already sitting at a table, her jacket over the next chair, still wearing a red scarf. She looked up when she saw him, and smiled.

He walked over and took off his coat, hanging it on the back of a chair, then he sat down.

"Hi," he said.

"Thanks for meeting me," she said, and he nodded.

"Are you OK?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"A little better now," she said, watching his face carefully.

He looked down at the tablecloth, and picked at a loose thread on the edge of a napkin. He was silent for several seconds.

"Kyra," he said at last, "I'm here because I'm your… friend. If there's something I can do to help, then I'll help. But you have to understand–"

"I know," she said quickly, looking away for a moment. "And I'm not here for that. I just wanted to talk to someone I can trust, Rick."

He looked at her for a long moment, and then he smiled. "Well that's me," he said, and she returned his smile.

* * *

><p>Beckett picked at her lunch, looking at the TV without really seeing it.<p>

She glanced over at the clock. _1:56 PM._

He had been at lunch for almost an hour now. She wondered for the twentieth time what they were talking about, and the worst-case scenarios ran through her head yet again.

_I'm getting a divorce, Rick._

_I've missed you, Rick._

_Are you seeing anyone, Rick?_

She dropped her fork onto the plate with a clatter.

"Stop it," she said sternly.

She picked up the TV remote and flipped aimlessly through a few more channels before leaving it on the news. She tapped the Home button of her phone, which was sitting on the couch beside her, but there were no new notifications. She briefly considered calling Lanie, but she knew there was really nothing else to talk about at this point – not until she'd spoken to him.

"An hour to go, one way or the other," she said, and picked up her fork again.

* * *

><p>"Where were you?" Kyra asked, and Castle looked up with a start.<p>

"What?"

She gave a small smile, with a look of curiosity on her face. "You drifted off for a minute there, Rick. What were you thinking about?"

He sighed. "Sorry. Just got some stuff on my mind."

"It sounded that way last night too. Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "We came here to talk about you. I'm not being a great listener."

Her smile became more genuine. "We've been talking about me for an hour. Even I'm getting tired of my problems."

"Greg will come round," he replied. "It's a big step, and I know why he's unsure. For what it's worth, having Alexis was the best thing that ever happened to me. I think you'd be an amazing mom, too. If he's like me, he's just looking for reassurance that starting a family isn't going to change things between you two."

She nodded gratefully. "And won't it change things?"

"Completely," he said, and she laughed. "But in a wonderful way."

"Thank you," she said.

There was a comfortable silence for a minute or two as they finished their meals, then Castle glanced at his wristwatch. It was just after 2:30 PM.

"Got somewhere to be?" Kyra asked, and she was puzzled at the look of apprehension that passed across his face.

"Yeah," he said, taking a ragged breath. "Going to see someone."

"About something bad?"

He heard the concern in her voice, and he decided to be honest.

"I'm going to see my partner, from the precinct. You met her."

"The kick-ass brunette detective," Kyra said, and he grinned. "Things not going so well between you two?"

He straightened in his seat, picking an invisible piece of lint from the sleeve of his blazer.

"Work is fine," he said.

"Not what I asked," she replied, and he glared at her.

"Not so well, I guess," he said at last. "But I brought it on myself."

She frowned. "How's that?"

He laid his hands, curled loosely into fists, side by side on the white tablecloth, staring down at his own knuckles.

"I fell in love with her," he said quietly.

"Oh," she gasped. "I… had a feeling, even last time we met."

He looked up at her, surprised, then he nodded wearily.

"So what's the problem?" she asked.

He gave her a quick summary of the last couple of weeks, culminating in the events of last night.

"Oh _no_," Kyra said. "She must hate me right now."

He raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, and she rolled her eyes.

"So what did she say this morning? When she called?"

He shifted in his seat again, and cleared his throat.

"Uh, this and that. It was confusing, actually. She wants to talk to me after we're done here, and I said I'd be out by three."

Kyra waved over a waiter and asked for the check, then she turned to look at Castle again.

"Listen, Rick," she said, in her no-nonsense tone that hadn't changed in all the years he'd known her. "She clearly has feelings for you. It sounds like the two of you are _terrible_ at communicating, but give her a chance. I think she's probably worried she's lost you already. God, she must _really_ hate me."

He coughed, then took a sip of water.

Kyra's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Wait, what was that?"

He looked across at her, a little too innocently.

"_Rick_."

"Damn it," he said, and a small grin appeared around the edge of her lips. "She, uh, … I obviously had to say I was meeting someone for lunch. You. So she knows about that. That's all."

Kyra leaned forward slightly, with a worried look on her face. "Rick, what did she say? I'm a big girl. I just really wish I'd waited another day to call you now."

He pulled at his shirt collar, twisting his neck one way then the other. "She… yeah. She might have said… requested, I mean. She might have _requested_ that I, uh…"

Kyra raised both eyebrows impatiently.

Castle blew out a breath, and looked down at his hands again. "She said _please don't kiss her_, OK?"

Kyra's laugh pealed out around the cafe, drawing the attention of several nearby tables for a moment.

"Hey," Castle said indignantly, pausing as the waiter brought the check and then retreated, "this is _not_ funny."

"You're right," she replied. "It's hilarious. Or it would be, if it wasn't so sad. No, actually it's still hilarious at the same time."

Castle huffed, but the tightness in his chest that had been his constant companion for weeks now seemed to loosen a little.

"I guess it's a little funny," he said, and Kyra beamed at him.

He caught a glimpse of the woman he used to love, shining from her eyes. He felt a surge of affection for her, and when his gaze drifted to the two rings on the fourth finger of her left hand, his smile only widened.

"I'm really happy for you, you know," he said. "I know you're going through a rough patch, but Greg's a great guy, and you're going to get through this together and be great parents too. You deserve it."

She reached across and put her hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers.

"Go to her," she said. "It's almost three. I'll take care of this – I invited you, and I owe you, for a lot of things. Go, and listen to her. Maybe even help her. You've always been good with words."

He looked down at their hands together, and for just a moment, he could imagine that it was Beckett's hand, and when he looked up it would be her smile he'd see too.

"Thanks," he said, and when he looked up he saw that Kyra's eyes were glistening.

"Thank _you_, Rick. I said that last time I saw you too. Now go."

He smiled at her for another moment, then he nodded and stood up.

He gave her one last look, and she swiped away a tear that was threatening to fall, then she waved him away.

He turned and started walking towards the door, and he didn't look back.

* * *

><p>The clock said 2:56 PM, and Beckett was now sitting perched on the edge of her couch. Lunch had been cleared away, and the TV was off. The only thing in front of her was her phone.<p>

She looked at the clock yet again, and just as it changed to 2:57, her phone chirped.

She grabbed for it, and saw the message banner across the screen. It said _Castle_. She unlocked it and read the message.

_**Waiting in line for our coffee. On my way.**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's note: A brief chapter, but no shorter than it needs to be. They've been dancing around this and hurting each other for long enough. I think it's time they started to heal.**_

* * *

><p>Beckett pushed herself away from the kitchen counter when she heard the knock at the door, quickly crossing the floor to the entranceway.<p>

There was a mirror on the side wall and she glanced into it, rearranging a strand of hair, then she took a breath and opened the door.

Castle stood on the other side, with a cup holder containing two coffees in one hand, and a bag in the other.

"Bear claws," he said, lifting the bag slightly.

She gave him a small smile, and stepped aside to allow him to enter.

He walked over to her couch and put the cup holder and bag down on the coffee table, then shrugged off his jacket.

_You can do this, Kate_, she thought, walking slowly across the large open area to join him. He had already sat down at one end of the couch, and she chose a nearby armchair. He handed her one of the coffees.

"Thanks," she said, looking at him apprehensively as she took a sip of the hot liquid.

"As promised," he replied, blowing on his own coffee before setting it down on the table.

"How was lunch?" she said, hoping that the dread she was feeling wasn't apparent in her voice.

He looked across at her, reading the emotions on her face easily. _A lot less guarded than usual_, he thought. It was as unsettling as it was welcome.

"Fine," he replied. "We talked about some stuff."

Beckett nodded, looking down at the coffee cup she had clasped in her hands.

"Are you going to see her again?"

He raised an eyebrow, and she saw it when she risked a quick look up at him again. She flushed, and dropped her gaze.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've got no right to ask."

"No, you don't," he said quietly, still watching her, and he saw the tension all through her body. He paused for a few seconds before he spoke again. "But you could."

Her eyes snapped up to look at him again, and he could see that she wasn't sure what he meant. He sighed.

"You asked me here to talk, Kate," he said, and she nodded slowly.

He could see how much she was struggling, and how far outside her comfort zone she was, but she was putting words together in her mind nonetheless.

_Please don't kiss her_, his mind said, recalling her words on the phone that morning, and he felt a burst of mixed hope and pity.

"Children," he said suddenly, and she blinked. Her mouth opened to ask a question, but she didn't manage to speak before he did.

"Kyra and Greg are thinking about starting a family. He's having cold feet. She just wanted to talk to somebody she could trust, and I'm a father too. That's what it was about."

She swallowed, her mind racing as it processed the information.

"I told her I was coming to see you afterwards. I said we were going through a rough patch too."

"Oh," Beckett replied, feeling her cheeks flush. "What did she say?"

"She said I should listen to what you have to say, and that maybe you'd need some help saying it."

She felt ashamed. Ashamed of the conclusions she'd jumped to about Kyra, ashamed that the other woman had tried to help, and ashamed that she was still having trouble opening up to him.

"I was wrong about her," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She looked up at him, he tilted his head to one side in agreement. His eyes were fixed on the coffee cup in front of him.

"Maybe it would help if you start at the end," he said, and she frowned. As if sensing her confusion, he added "The last thing you said to me on the phone this morning."

She closed her eyes, feeling her pulse hammering in her chest.

"I'm sorry," she said. He looked up sharply.

"Sorry for saying it?"

"I didn't have any right to–"

"Damn it, Kate, stop saying that. We're a long way past what we've got a right to do or not. You _did_ say it, and I'm giving you a chance to tell me why."

_And if you're not going to do that, then I made the right choice two weeks ago, and we're done._

She heard the subtext along with the words, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Set set her cup down and wiped at her cheek. After a moment, she looked across at him, and he looked straight back at her.

His expression was stormy, but not all of it was anger. There was pain there too, and such frustration, like he was watching a loved one destroy themselves and was powerless to intervene.

_And isn't that exactly what this is?_ she thought. _He's pulling away not just because it hurts him too much when I keep him waiting, but also because he can't watch me do it to myself anymore._

Her eyes widened. The wall inside her; always the wall. She searched inside herself for its familiar coldness and solidity, the barrier that stood between her and anything that could truly hurt her. She easily found the place where it had stood for so many years, but as she looked across at him, his blue eyes burning into her, she felt something shift.

She looked down at the coffee again, seeing the room reflected in its surface. Another room, just like this one. Another her, and another him.

She blinked.

_She heard a sigh, and she looked up to see Castle reach for his cup and then change his mind, withdrawing his hand._

_He looked at her sadly, then shook his head. "I really thought… it seemed like you might finally be–"_

_He stood up, and looking all around her apartment before finally letting his eyes come to rest on her._

_"I guess it just wasn't meant to be. I really wish I'd known that a year ago. Or more."_

_He picked up his jacket, folding it over his arm. There was silence for several long moments. When he spoke, he wasn't looking at her._

_"I can't do this anymore," he said quietly. "I'm done, Kate. I'm out. Tell the guys… tell them whatever makes it easiest. And for what it's worth, I really hope you find a way to be happy."_

_He turned and walked slowly to the entranceway, lifting his hand to the door handle, then he paused._

_"I love you, you know," he said sadly, without looking back. "I always would have."_

_The clock on the wall ticked five times before he turned the handle, opened the door, and stepped out. The door clicked softly shut behind him, and his footsteps receded and then were gone._

She blinked.

She heard a sigh, and she looked up to see Castle reach for his cup and then change his mind, withdrawing his hand.

_No,_ she thought.

She stood up abruptly, and he looked over at her with a question on his face. She walked the few steps from the armchair to the couch and sat down next to him, turning to face him.

She reached out and took his hand, pulling it into her lap and looking down at it. She felt another tear trace down her cheek, but she made no effort to stop it.

"Kate?" he asked, and the gentle, concerned tone of his voice simultaneously broke and healed her heart.

"You asked about what I said when I called you this morning," she said. Her voice wavered around the edges but she didn't let it crack. She clasped his hand tighter, and after a moment she felt his fingers shift slightly, exerting the barest pressure on hers too.

_It's so simple_, she thought. _So stupidly simple_.

"You asked me not to kiss her," he said quietly. He could see the tears on her cheeks, and he barely dared to move.

She nodded twice quickly, and sniffed, still not meeting his eyes.

He could feel her pulse through her grip on his hand. Another long moment passed.

"Kate," he said quietly, "why?"

The clock on the wall ticked five times before she looked up at him, and his own breath caught in his throat.

Her smile was heartbreaking. It wasn't the widest smile she'd ever given him, and it certainly wasn't the happiest, but it was _her_. Open and true; hurt and hopeful; broken and mending – and without a barrier.

She opened her mouth to speak, and she didn't have to search for the words. They'd been there all along, waiting, behind a wall that turned out to be paper-thin and had crumbled at the first touch of her fingers.

She looked into his eyes, and willed him to understand.

"Because I'm in love with you."


	16. Chapter 16

For once, Castle's mind was completely blank.

Her words seemed to echo around the room, and he wasn't sure if a second or a minute had passed.

_Please don't kiss her_, his mind said at last, nonsensically, in Beckett's voice.

She looked at him, unsure if she was even breathing. She felt a growing tightness in her chest, and took a small gasp of air, immediately closing her mouth again. _Say something_, she thought, and the voice in her head was tinged with panic.

_You. She. But_. Each word fell like a stone in Castle's mind, sinking immediately out of sight. Her statement had scattered his thoughts like a flock of startled birds, and everything felt momentarily unreal. He focused on her eyes again.

They were large and dark, brown pools, and he could see himself reflected in them. Her throat worked, and he became aware of the tension in her jaw, then the fine crease across her forehead, then the tight line of her lips pressed together. He could still feel her pulse through their joined hands, and it was thudding along on the off-beat of his.

_Too late_, she thought, a prickling feeling starting to creep up the back of her neck. Crumbled pieces of the wall inside her melted and ran together like mercury, merging and beginning to re-form.

As he watched, a large tear rolled from the corner of her left eye and down her cheek.

Her gaze moved slowly from his eyes down to his lips, then to his chest, then fell to his hand, held in both of hers.

He felt her grip on his hand begin to loosen, and he tightened his fingers around hers.

"But…" he began, but his voice didn't seem to be working properly at the moment. She met his eyes again.

_He doesn't know whether to believe me_, she thought. Strangely, the realisation brought hope as well as sadness. _I probably wouldn't believe me either right now_.

"I'm in love with you," she said again.

He was stunned. It took him another few seconds to put any words together.

"Kate," he said, his voice rough.

"I'm here," she replied, adjusting her hands to cradle his.

"If you're… saying that because–"

"_No_, Rick," she said, her voice catching. "Because it's true."

Another long pause.

"After all this time?" he asked, and she wasn't sure if he knew he'd said it out loud.

She took a breath, and squeezed his hand again to focus his attention.

"For a long time now," she said. "I just… I was lying to myself. I was hiding."

This time, the pause was even longer. His head bowed until he was looking down at the coffee table, and she could practically hear him thinking.

_Give him time_, she told herself. _Of course he needs time._

"This is… a lot," he said at last. "To take in."

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his face even though he wasn't looking at her. After another few moments, he looked up at her.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I too late?"

_I have no idea how to process this_, he thought. _But it's… something._

He saw the mixture of fear and hope in her eyes, and he knew that his mind was already made up. He also knew they had a long way to go before he could accept this change.

"No," he said.

He watched as her eyes closed and she took a deep, wavering breath of relief before looking at him again.

"I'm so sorry about… everything," she said. "I know you didn't have to give me another chance, and I swear I'll do anything to–"

He frowned and lifted his free hand, just very slightly, and she broke off.

"I need to say some things," he said.

His tone was subdued. Slightly sad, or weary. She felt her pulse rate increase again, and she nodded.

"I don't know what to think about all this, Kate," he said, turning his gaze to the coffee table again. "You let me just… circle you, for… years, I guess. Then you tell me _this_ – this thing I've wanted to hear for so long – once I finally decide to move on."

She swallowed, keeping silent, and he continued after a few seconds.

"And if I believe you – and by god I _want_ to – then I'm still faced with the fact that you only reached out to me once I was almost out the door. That doesn't say 'ready' to me. It says… I don't know. Panic, maybe. But not ready. And I don't like what that means."

She felt tears trickling down her cheeks, and the worst part was that everything he was saying was completely reasonable. It was no wonder he didn't trust her words.

He sighed, and it was such a tired sound.

"So I've got to choose between two problems," he said. "Either you're saying something you don't truly mean because you're afraid you'll lose me, or you're doing something you still weren't ready to do two weeks ago, just because you ran out of time. I don't like the odds for us on either one."

She swallowed again, feeling tears running freely down her face now.

He glanced up at her, and she saw pain flash across his face when he saw that she was crying.

"Kate," he said softly, reaching into his pocket and producing a tissue. He reached up and gently dabbed away her tears himself.

"Please don't cry," he said.

She just shook her head, unable to trust her voice at the moment.

He sighed again, then gave her a small smile.

"Listen," he said, setting the damp tissue down on the coffee table and putting his other hand on top of hers. Now they each held both of the other's hands in their own. "That's the bad news. But I'm not done."

She blinked away more tears, clearing her vision for a moment so she could see him. Every ounce of attention was focused on him.

"I'm still in love with you," he said, and all of her remaining flimsy self-control evaporated. A loud sob burst from her and she pulled her hands free, throwing her arms around his neck.

_That's probably a good sign too_, he thought, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her fully against him.

He stroked her back and let her cry, until her breathing started to settle down. He thought she would pull away, but she only tightened her grip on him. Her forehead was pressed into the crook of his neck, and he could feel a damp patch of his shirt over his collarbone.

"That was the truth, Kate," he murmured, feeling her palms press against his shoulders in response.

"And… it helps to know that… it helps to hear what you said," he continued.

She sighed into his chest, and he knew that she understood why he didn't say _to know you feel the same way_.

"It gives me hope," he said. "But rushing into something you're not ready for is only going to hurt us both, and we won't be able to survive that."

He held her in silence for almost half a minute, letting the words sink in, before continuing.

"So what do you say I just… give you some time. Let you – and me – deal with what's happened. I'll come back to work, and we'll go on as normal. After tonight, I… I think I can give you some time. I'd rather wait for something that could work. Maybe in a few months we–"

"No," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. She lifted her head from his chest, and pulled back so she could look at him, her hands still resting on his shoulders. His arms fell away from her, and one hand came to rest on her hip.

"I know why you feel that way," she said. Her voice was still watery, but there was a new firmness to her tone. "I'd feel that way too. I'm scared about this, and I won't lie about that. But I'm _ready_."

She could see the doubt and the want battling each other on his face.

"Let me prove it to you," she said. "I don't know how yet, but I'm going to try. Please don't make me go back now. I'm here, and _I want to be with you_!"

He looked at her, searching her eyes.

"Kate, this is a really big step–"

"That I want to make."

"But if you just end up going back behind that wall, I swear I don't–"

"I couldn't take it either!" she said, laying her palm against his cheek.

His eyes fluttered closed, and she could feel his jaw tense under her fingers. He inhaled sharply, and she saw gooseflesh break out on his neck.

She felt a stab of compassion and guilt. _He's needed this for so long_, she realised. _Even just this simple thing._

"I love you so much," she said softly, and his eyes snapped open again. "I'm so sorry I haven't told you that before now."

Something in his eyes shifted, and suddenly there was moisture there too. It was like a door had been opened, and she could see and feel the months and months of yearning and uncertainty and loneliness. It was like a knife in her chest, and another sob escaped.

"I am _so sorry_," she whispered. "I'm _so_ sorry."

He swallowed, and gave the barest nod.

"Just let me try, Rick," she said. "I know you don't trust me right now" – he opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head and continued – "but let me try to fix it. Let me prove it to you. Just give me the chance."

She moved closer, her face only eight inches or so from his. He felt her breath against him, and he shivered. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and her own lips parted even as another tear rolled down her cheek.

"_Kate_," he said, his voice hoarse and rough with restrained emotion.

Her hand slid down his cheek to cradle his jaw.

"If we do this–" he began, and she ran her thumb across his cheek, feeling the rasp of the stubble growing there.

"I don't _want_ to go back," she said. "I'm not going to."

She moved another inch closer, and her gaze fell to his lips again, and stayed there.

"We shouldn't… rush," he said. His voice was a whisper now. His eyes darted back and forth between her eyes and her lips, and his pulse was visible in his neck. "We shouldn't…"

"Kiss?" she said, meeting his eyes again. They were dark cobalt now, and filled with need. She felt heat chase through her. "We don't have to."

Castle wasn't aware of anything except her. Her face filled his vision, and the scent of her hair and her perfume and her skin was all around him. Her lips were so red, and he couldn't keep his eyes off them. Being cautious suddenly seemed like a very distant and unimportant consideration.

_Kate_, he thought, and it was the only truth he needed.

"Yes we do," he said, and then his lips were on hers.


	17. Chapter 17

After their lips parted, they both kept their eyes closed for several seconds.

Every inch of her skin felt like it was pulsing with electricity. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt completely alive.

Castle licked his lips, and took a shaky breath. _Wow_, he thought.

"That was…" he began, then trailed off, opening his eyes to see a small grin flicker around the edges of her mouth.

"Something I've wanted to do for a long time," she said, also opening her eyes to look at him earnestly.

Her arms were still around his neck, and her legs were curled beneath her on the couch. Her eyes were large and dark, and they sparkled in the afternoon sun that was coming in through the windows.

One of his hands had been tangled in her hair, holding her in place as he kissed her, and now he let it drop away, resting it on her hip. His eyes searched hers in silence for long moments.

"Me too," he said at last, and she smiled, but his face remained sombre.

"Then what's wrong?" she asked, again lifting one of her hands to caress his cheek.

He sighed, closing his eyes again.

"Nothing's wrong," he said. "It's just… really fast. And I can't believe I'm saying that."

"Too fast?" she asked, in a small voice, and he frowned slightly before opening his eyes once more.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," he said. "I _want_ this. You. Us. You know that."

She nodded slowly.

"And… but it's just… it's like I said. I need to know that this isn't because of… what's been going on lately. You mean too much to me for it to just be about that. And I know what you've said, but I think I need to really _know_. If that makes sense."

"I think so," she replied quietly, still stroking his cheek. "What can I do?"

"Be patient with me," he said immediately. "I just need a little time to get used to this. To accept that what I've wanted for years might actually be here. To believe it. I _want_ to, Kate, I swear I do."

"I know," she replied, with a small and slightly sad smile on her face. "And I understand."

"Glad one of us does," he said wearily. "I'm not making a lot of sense."

"I'm so sorry I pushed you this far away," she said, her voice cracking as she thought of how differently this conversation would have gone even a month ago.

"I want to come back," he said gently, lifting his hand from her hip to cover hers against his cheek. "I want to feel sure about you. I want to know how to do that again."

She nodded, a single tear lingering on her eyelashes for a moment before falling.

_I'll do whatever it takes_, she thought.

He released her hand and then leaned forward and pressed his lips briefly to hers, and she felt her heart soar at the casual, natural intimacy of it. She immediately craved the sensation.

"I'm gonna need your help," he said. "And I don't even know what I'm asking for. But if you're willing to try, then so am I."

She nodded once more, then moved her arms to encircle his waist, pillowing her head against his chest. She felt his arms fold around her shoulders, and she gave a deep, shuddering sigh.

They held each other for several minutes, as two heartbeats gradually slowed to a normal pace.

His nose was buried in her hair when they both heard his phone chirp. Her stomach immediately clenched as she instinctively wondered if it was Kyra, then she felt guilty about the reaction.

"I doubt it," he murmured into the top of her head, and she lifted her head to look at him quizzically. He raised an eyebrow.

"We both know you just wondered if that text is from Kyra," he said, and she blushed.

"How do you _do_ that?" she asked, and he just shrugged.

"I know you," he replied, and his tone conveyed the depth of meaning behind the simple phrase. Then his pupils dilated slightly and she knew he was no longer focusing on her even though he hadn't looked away.

"In some ways," he amended, in a small voice. She rubbed her palms across his lower back in slow, comforting patterns.

His phone chirped again.

"You should probably check that," she said, and he nodded with a sigh, so she reluctantly released him and sat up. She immediately felt cold, and she shivered.

Castle leaned over towards the armrest of the couch, where his jacket was draped, and fished his iPhone from a pocket. He pressed the Home button to illuminate the screen, then smiled before turning it towards Beckett.

The message notification banner read _Alexis_.

Beckett smiled too, and Castle gave her a knowing look before unlocking his phone and reading the message.

_**We're going to have dinner at 7PM. Are you going to be home?**_

"Everything OK?" Beckett asked, and Castle nodded.

"She's just telling me dinner's at seven, if I'm going to be there."

"Oh," she replied, glancing towards the clock on the wall. It read 4:03PM. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.

Castle grinned, reaching for the brown paper bag on the coffee table. He handed her a bear claw with raspberry icing, and she smiled gratefully. He took the other pastry, and bit into it eagerly.

They ate in silence for a minute, and Castle quickly finished off his bear claw and then glanced over at her.

"I've not really had much time with Alexis over the last few days," he said, and she nodded in understanding.

"You should tell her you'll be home for dinner."

He looked at her for a moment, thinking.

"You should come over," he said.

She felt butterflies take flight in her stomach. There had been an undercurrent of tension between her and his daughter for a while now, and it was clear what the source of it was. She could only assume that it would be the same with Martha, although more veiled by politeness.

_But I've got to push through this_, she thought. She believed in ripping off the band aid instead of letting things go unresolved.

_Except with him_, she thought, with another stab of guilt, but she pushed that thought away. And with that, her mind was made up.

"I'd love to," she said. "As long as it's not going to intrude on your family time."

"Then it's settled," he said after a brief pause, and he picked up his phone again.

She watched him carefully, mulling over his lack of response to her implicit question. She expected him to at least say _of course not_ or _the more the merrier,_ or something like that. Surely he wouldn't have invited her if she'd be intruding on his time with his family.

_You know very well why he didn't say anything_, her mind whispered.

She swallowed. A part of her did indeed know. Another of the thousand gestures he made, day after day. The fact that this one was made with silence, by omitting a statement, didn't change how meaningful it was.

_I will not screw this up_, she thought. _I'll do anything not to screw this up._

"Done," he said, and he hadn't even set the phone back down when it chirped again. They could both see Alexis's reply on the screen.

_**OK. See you both later then.**_

Beckett felt another flutter of nervousness, then she realised that he was watching her.

"You'll have to give her some time too," he said, and she sighed and nodded.

"I know," she replied, in a small voice. "And I've earned this."

He didn't respond for a few seconds, then he reached for his coffee and took a long swallow.

"She's just…" he began, but she interrupted.

"Protecting you."

He nodded twice, and a small smile flashed across his face as he stared down at his coffee cup.

"She loves me," he said. His voice had warmed with the statement, and she saw his expression soften. In that moment, she felt desperately jealous of Alexis, for his _certainty_ and complete trust in the girl's feelings for him, then a wave of shame banished the jealousy just as quickly as it had appeared.

"So do I," she said quietly, and he looked up at her immediately.

His pulse had increased automatically at her words, and he searched her face for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon.

She raised an eyebrow uncertainly at the intense look he was giving her, and she was surprised to hear a small laugh from him.

"Just… still getting used to that," he said. "You saying it, I mean."

Her cheeks coloured slightly, but she didn't break eye contact. "You'll get used to it," she said.

_I could_, he thought. _Been hearing it in daydreams for years already_.

He upended his cup, finishing the last of his coffee, and set it down before turning towards her.

"I think I'm gonna head home," he said, and she felt disappointment well up inside her. He saw the change in her expression, and he laid a hand on her knee.

"You saw Alexis's message. I think I need to spend a little time alone with her before you come over, that's all. Father's intuition. And I'm going to see you in a few hours."

She smiled at him, and nodded. "Of course," she replied. "Go and be with your daughter. I'll come over a little before seven."

"Looking forward to it," he said, squeezing her knee before standing up. He picked up his jacket from the armrest, then looked towards the cups and empty bag on the coffee table.

"I'll clear up," she said, also getting up. He looked at her for a moment, then gave her another small smile.

"I'll see you soon," he said, and he was surprised when she took his hand and walked with him to the entranceway. They both stopped just beside the door, and he had just put his hand on the door handle when she spoke.

"Are we going to be OK?"

He turned, and his heart went out to her. Her eyes were glistening again, and he could see that she was putting a brave face on, barely containing her emotions.

_I know how you feel_, he thought.

He reached out and gently brushed his thumb over her cheek, catching a tear before it could fall very far. Her eyes flickered closed for a moment and she leaned into his touch.

"We're going to give it a damned good try," he said gently.

She stepped towards him, into his personal space, her eyes still fixed on his. Her hands came up and her fingertips feathered over his cheeks. After a moment, she tilted her head and leaned in to kiss him.

It was gentle and soft, lingering but filled with the promise of passion. The kind of kiss that was a message. When her lips stopped moving she kept them pressed against his for another moment, their breath mingling. Then she slowly pulled back.

"I love you," she said.

His lips parted, but she rested her forefinger against them, silencing him, then her hand slid down to his chest.

"Go home to your daughter," she said gently.

He looked into her eyes for several long moments, and it took all of his self control to keep the words inside. _I love you too_.

He smiled at her and nodded, then he turned, opened the door, and left.

As he reached the elevator he looked back, and she still stood there, looking around the edge of the door. She was smiling shyly.

The elevator dinged beside him, and she sighed and slowly closed the door.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's note: Friday night bonus chapter, coincidentally also set on a Friday night. Enjoy the weekend.**_

* * *

><p>Castle pulled his phone from his pocket and read the message.<p>

_**On my way. Kx**_

He blinked. _That's a first. She's never signed off before._

Alexis slid a casserole dish filled with lasagne into the oven and then glanced over at him.

"Is that from Detective Beckett?" she asked, her voice casually neutral.

"She's on her way," he replied, watching his daughter's face carefully.

They had spent the last two hours just lounging around the loft and catching up. Alexis had been delighted when he returned earlier than she was expecting, and the girl had pointedly watched the door as he came in, to see if anyone was with him.

Castle hadn't mentioned anything about the events of the last couple of days to his daughter, because truthfully he wasn't sure what to say. He also knew that Beckett was still on slightly shaky ground with her.

He wondered for the tenth time if inviting Beckett over for dinner was a bad idea, but he knew that, if this new aspect of their relationship was going to continue, they had to heal a lot of wounds – and that included with his family.

_And I want to just… see_, he thought.

A part of him wondered if she would withdraw into herself around his family, and then he wondered what it would mean if she did. It was just a normal family dinner, but he knew that it was also a trial by fire for Beckett.

Even so, he couldn't very well just not see her tonight, after the conversation they'd had earlier at her apartment. Nor did he want to miss dinner with Alexis and his mother again. He'd felt incredibly isolated over the past week or two, mostly by choice, and his emotions had taken a beating. He just wanted to be around his loved ones. He'd deal with anything else that happened as and when it became necessary.

"Is it OK that I invited her over?" he asked, and Alexis's vivid blue eyes locked with his again.

"Of course," she said, with a small shrug. "She's been here plenty of times. She's your work partner."

"I mean is it OK with _you_," he said, and she looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

"If it's OK with you, it's OK with me," she said, and he raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed.

"Look, it's just… sometimes you seem really unhappy, and usually it's…"

"Because of her?" he prompted, and she tilted her head. "It's not that simple, Alexis. But I do know what you mean."

He walked the few steps to stand in front of her, and drew her into his arms, bending to rest his chin on top of her head.

"I just want you to be happy," she said, and he smiled, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head.

"I know that," he replied. "And I am. I've got you, and grams. You make me happy."

Alexis hugged him fiercely, then pulled back to look up at him. "Does she?"

He sighed, considering his words carefully.

"Sometimes," he said at last. "I think… she wants to."

Alexis huffed slightly, and he tightened his arms around her.

"I think she wants to have her cake and eat it too," she muttered, and he gave a small laugh. "It's not _funny_, dad."

"I know, I know," he said, dropping a kiss onto her forehead this time. "But things have changed. Maybe. They're maybe changing."

"How?"

He could see the worry in her eyes, and hear it in her voice. He felt a prickle of resentment at the fact that his daughter was feeling this way, but he pushed it aside.

_We've both made mistakes_, he thought. _At some point, we have to move forward._

"We had a talk today," he said. "A big talk. It was about a year overdue, and it's been coming for longer than that, but we talked."

"What did she… well, that's none of my business. But… a good talk?"

He nodded. "I think so."

She searched his face as she processed this new information. After a few moments she leaned her head against his chest once more.

"So what's happening now?" she asked, her voice partly muffled by his freshly-pressed burgundy shirt.

"Now, we're all having dinner together," he said. "And… we'll see."

He paused for a few seconds before continuing.

"Can you give her one more chance? For me?"

Alexis didn't respond, and he gently lifted his hands to her shoulders, pushing her just far enough away to see her face.

"She's had a lot of chances," Alexis said quietly, and he gave a sad smile.

"True," he said, "and this is the last one from me."

Her eyebrows lifted at his statement. "Well… good," she said, unsure how to reply.

"I care about her a lot. More than anybody in a long time."

"She doesn't _deserve_–"

"_Alexis_," he said gently, and she sighed deeply.

"I've decided I'm going to try, one more time," he continued. "We talked, and she asked, and that's what I'm going to do. I think things have changed, and you don't know about everything that's happened. But you're the most important person in the world to me, and if you're not on board, then I'll walk away. Nobody will _ever_ come between you and I."

She moved fully into his embrace again, and then shrugged.

"I guess, if it's what you want…" she said, and he smiled at the note of warmth and indulgence in her voice.

"Thank you," he said.

"It's just because I love you, y'know."

As usual, the magnitude of the emotion he felt for his daughter was almost enough to knock him off balance, and he tightened his arms around her.

"I know," he replied, speaking into her red hair. "And I love you too, pumpkin."

She squeezed him one more time before releasing him, and then she folded her arms, appraising him.

"Well, you're looking really nice," she said, with just a hint of a grudging tone. "I'm sure she'll be pleased."

She gave him a smile, showing that the remark wasn't meant sarcastically, and he nodded in gratitude.

"Now I have to do the salad," Alexis said. "Go and get wine. And call grams."

"Already here, darling," Martha said, sweeping elegantly down the staircase and walking over to the kitchen area. "What can I help with?"

* * *

><p>Around fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door.<p>

"I'll get it," Castle said, pushing away from the kitchen countertop where he'd just finished slicing some crusty bread. He exchanged a look with Alexis, and the girl smiled at him.

He walked over to the entranceway, glancing briefly in the mirror out of habit, and opened the door.

Beckett stood there, clutching her purse in both hands.

"Hey," she said, a little breathlessly, and he smiled at her.

"Hey. Come on in."

He could see that she was uneasy, and she hovered near the door once she was across the threshold.

"Hi, Detective Beckett," Alexis called across the loft, waving, and Beckett smiled at her.

"Oh, hi Alexis," she replied. "Something smells amazing."

Alexis smiled back, and then returned to what she was doing.

"Take your coat?" Castle asked, and Beckett froze for a moment before laughing nervously.

"Thanks," she said, quickly shrugging off her jacket which Castle lifted from her shoulders and hung on the coat rack just inside the door.

She was wearing brand new navy slacks, low heels and a soft pink silk blouse, with a delicate ruched detail across the chest. It was a very feminine look for her, and his eyes wandered over her in appreciation.

"Told you it'd be fine," he said quietly, and she looked up at him and nodded quickly. After a moment, her expression softened.

"I missed you," she said, then her cheeks flushed.

"Been a whole… two and a half hours," he said, with the barest hint of a grin.

She shrugged, unknowingly imitating Alexis's recent gesture, and his grin became more pronounced.

His gaze moved down to her lips, and she felt her pulse quicken, but then he met her eyes again.

"Let's get you a drink," he said, gesturing towards the kitchen, and they walked across the loft together.

Martha appeared from the direction of his office, holding a couple of small candles, and smiled at her.

"Good evening, Katherine," she said courteously, and Beckett smiled at her.

"Hello, Martha. It's good to see you."

"Likewise, dear. Why don't you help me with these?"

Beckett glanced quickly at Castle, who nodded, then she quickly walked across to Martha, taking one of the candles from her hand.

"It's been some time since we've all eaten together," Martha said. "No harm in adding some ambience."

Castle busied himself with pouring wine while the two women lit the candles and suitably positioned them on the dining table.

Alexis brushed past him just as he was pouring the last glass, and he heard her whisper "She looks a little nervous. That's new."

"Wants to make a good impression," he replied, matching her tone. "Go easy."

Alexis rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, and he smirked.

"Drinks, anyone?" he said, at a normal volume, and Martha and Beckett came over to join the two of them, each taking a glass. Beckett stood right beside him, her arm in contact with his, and he saw Alexis noticing the proximity.

"To good food and good friends, and enough alcohol to enjoy either one in the absence of the other," Martha announced theatrically, and Beckett laughed.

They all clinked their glasses against each other's, then took a sip. Castle felt Beckett relax slightly against him.

The oven timer buzzed loudly, and Beckett flinched, barely avoiding spilling her wine. Her other hand instinctively twitched towards his, and he caught it.

Martha placed her hand over her chest and shook her head. "I do hate the noise of that thing," she said. "I can't tell you how many times it's startled me too, dear."

Beckett smiled gratefully, as Alexis and other woman busied themselves starting to serve dinner.

"If you two could set the table, we can sit down in just a few minutes," Martha said.

Beckett squeezed his fingers and then released his hand, and walked over to the cutlery drawer.

* * *

><p>"Dinner was amazing, Alexis – thank you," Beckett said, and the girl smiled at her.<p>

"You're welcome," Alexis replied.

They were all sitting in the living room area now, and the dishwasher was quietly churning away in the background. The TV was on, showing an episode of _Temptation Lane_ with the volume low.

Martha sat at one end of the large, L-shaped leather couch, with Alexis beside her near the centre. Castle and Beckett sat side by side on the other section, and four varyingly depleted wine glasses stood on the coffee table.

"Dessert in a little while, if anyone's interested," Castle said, and Beckett glanced at him. "Or in a… longer… while?" he offered, and she grinned.

"Don't let me stop you," she said. "I might just stick with the wine. I'm watching my figure."

"Me too," he quipped immediately, and he was surprised and amused to see that she blushed and looked down at her wine glass.

"It's _tiramisu_…" he said, taunting her, and she looked up at him again with one raised eyebrow.

"Mmm," she replied. "Well… maybe. If other people are."

"I definitely am," Alexis said, and Castle grinned across at his daughter.

"I've taught you well," he said.

"OK, you talked me into it. In a _while_," Beckett said, and nodded.

"Deal," Castle replied.

She looked at him for a long moment, unaware that Alexis was watching the two of them, then she toed off her heels and curled her feet up underneath her, taking the opportunity to lean into him. After a brief moment, she laid a hand on his thigh.

He half-turned his head to look at her, and she smiled softly up at him. They didn't break eye contact for several seconds.

_Feels right_, he thought.

He lifted his hand across to cover hers, and their fingers interlaced. He gave her a tight-lipped smile, then glanced briefly at his daughter before returning his gaze to the TV.

A moment later, he felt Beckett's head come to rest against his shoulder.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Author's note: I wasn't sure how this chapter was going to go. I strongly feel that Alexis would have a lot of resentment towards Beckett, for all the times she's kept Castle running around after her without reciprocating his feelings. She also probably resents Beckett for the danger her father is put in, but that's really his own choice.**_

_**Alexis idolises her dad, and presumably thinks that he's done more than enough to deserve the affections of any woman, particularly Beckett after all they've been through. So, I think that her response to Beckett would be suspicious and frosty at best - at least to start with. This is how it played out.**_

* * *

><p>"Well, I'm going to retire for the evening," Martha said, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. "I have an early start tomorrow. I had to move my pedicure appointment to make time for a lunch date."<p>

Castle shook his head ever so slightly, but his smile was good-natured. "Goodnight, mother," he said.

"Night, darling," Martha replied. "Goodnight, Katherine."

Beckett smiled. "Goodnight, Martha."

Martha leaned over to kiss Alexis on the forehead, then headed off towards the staircase.

It was just after 10PM. They had spent the evening in comfortable companionship, sharing wine and the occasional anecdote – mostly from Martha about Castle's younger years, to Alexis's endless amused fascination. Beckett did indeed have dessert, and she was glad of it.

The TV was showing a summary of the news, and the volume was so low that the newscasters's voices were only a mumble. Beckett was still sitting right beside Castle on one section of the couch, her forearm looped into his elbow and her other hand clasping his forearm. He would occasionally lean down and make some remark to her, and she looked up at him every time.

She was aware that Alexis was paying close attention to them, and for the twentieth time that evening she felt a twist of nervousness. She knew intuitively that the girl had reservations about her, and she also sensed that she was still on shaky ground with Castle, and that Alexis held a lot of influence over his opinions. He loved and trusted his daughter above all others.

_And his trust for me is still… damaged_, she thought.

She felt like she was walking a tightrope here, despite the cosy setting and the appearance of being relaxed. There was so much to gain, but also everything to lose. She felt exposed, and unprepared. She shifted even closer to Castle, tightening her grip on his arm.

He felt the movement, his eyes drifting from the TV but not quite reaching her. Insight flashed into his keen mind.

_She's nervous because we're alone with Alexis now_, he thought. A small part of him felt a sort of mean-spirited pride, but only for a moment. He understood that if this was to work, they would both have to help each other – and right now, Beckett needed more help than he did.

_They're going to have to talk to each other about this sometime_, he thought, his eyes flicking over towards his daughter who was playing with her phone. _Might as well be sooner rather than later_.

He lifted a hand to rest on top of Beckett's on his arm, letting the warmth of his palm seep into her surprisingly chilly fingers. She looked up at him so gratefully that his breath caught in his throat for an instant. He smiled and returned his eyes to the TV for several seconds before gently patting her hand twice in quick succession.

"Bathroom break," he said, beginning to sit forward. He felt her hand drop away, and he glanced back at her, seeing how much her expression had changed. Her eyes were bright but a little too wide, and her mouth was a thin line of barely-concealed anxiety.

He stood up, noticing that Alexis was now looking quickly between him and Beckett, and in that moment he made a decision.

"And I almost forgot: I need to just quickly email something to Black Pawn. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He turned to smile at Beckett, and saw her brave attempt to return the smile. He also saw the tension in her jaw, and the way she was resolutely not allowing her gaze to flick over towards his daughter.

_She's trying_, he thought. _Hard. And it's not easy for her._

She would sit there and wait for him to come back, dealing with whatever Alexis might – or might not – say. Even a silence would be difficult, and he knew very well how women could injure each other with little more than a shift in tone, or a subtle glance. His daughter was fiercely protective of him, and Beckett was both guilty and vulnerable. In many ways, she was in the lion's den tonight. But she came of her own free will.

_At least I can offer her some protection_, he thought, then he leaned over towards her, seeing the momentary confusion on her face just before her eyes fluttered shut as his hand gently cradled her jaw.

The kiss was brief but tender, and she immediately had to hold back tears – of relief, gratitude, and love for this man who she had so very nearly lost, and still might. She reached up and pressed her palm against his cheek.

He pulled back and her eyes opened, and he could see the moisture of unshed tears there.

"Back soon," he said, and she nodded, all at once understanding what he was doing.

_If you want your daughter and I to talk tonight, that's what we'll do_, she thought. She instantly missed his warmth and dreaded how this next conversation might go, but she knew exactly how important it was to him.

She reached out and snagged his hand before he could leave, squeezing his fingers in a silent message that wasn't just for Alexis's benefit. He smiled at her again, then he walked through to his office, letting the door close behind him.

She took another quick sip of wine before adjusting her position on the couch and turning towards Alexis.

"Thanks again for dinner. I appreciate you having me over," she said, with a small smile, and the girl looked over at her. A beat of silence passed.

"You're welcome," Alexis said. "Dad seems glad that you're here."

Beckett's eyes flicked down to her own hands, clasped in her lap. _Point: Alexis_, she thought, taking a measured breath.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking back up at the girl. Alexis wore a wary and confused expression.

"For… everything that's happened," Beckett added. "With your dad and I."

Alexis shifted in her seat, glancing towards the office door for a moment. "That's between you and him," she said.

"I've hurt you too," Beckett replied. "Whenever I've hurt him. Because you love him."

Alexis's brow pinched, and Beckett swallowed nervously at the sudden flash of anger she saw in the girl's eyes. It reminded her of the day outside the bank.

"Yes, I do," Alexis replied icily. "And I've had to watch him get hurt. Over and over again."

Beckett flushed, again feeling tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"But now you're here, again," Alexis continued, her voice quiet and deadly. "Do you understand what you're doing, Detective? Do you know what it'll do to _him_ if you decide you're still _not ready_, and you push him away again?"

Beckett's head snapped up, the shock clearly written on her face. "I'm not going to–"

"Do you understand what you _have_?" Alexis asked, her eyes glittering.

A small part of Beckett's mind was actually proud of the girl. Castle, with all of his own loyalty and love, deserved such a fearless defender. The thought caused tears to finally spill down her cheeks.

Alexis saw the streaks of liquid on Beckett's face, and she paused for a moment, but she was determined to say what was on her mind.

"It's actually worse because you _know_ him. He spends almost all his time with you. So it's not about the money, or the cars, or being in the papers, like it is with… some of… _those_ women." She said these last words with distaste, and a string of interchangeable blonde heads flashed through Beckett's mind before she pushed the images away. She didn't have time to say anything before Alexis continued.

"You _actually_ know how… how kind he is. And how sweet he can be. How generous, and smart, and how he _loves _people and… god, any little thing that catches his interest, and how he can forgive just about anyone, for anything. You know how he sees the world, not like it is, but like a kid sees it. You know what an _incredible_ man he is! And you know how to disappoint him."

Beckett felt the remark cut into her like a knife, and she swiped away another tear, forcing herself to listen and to endure the young woman's anger.

"You had him walking into that precinct for _years_, smiling that smile he has – like every day is a brand new adventure – and the only reason he went was to see you. Just to be near you."

Beckett nodded slowly. There was no sense in denying the truth of it.

"And _I_ got to see him come home without that smile, more times than I want to remember," Alexis said, and this time Beckett's heart lurched because she could hear pain in the girl's voice too.

"I am so sorry, Alexis," she said, her voice wavering as more tears slid down her cheeks. "You're right to feel this way. Anyone would. And believe me, no-one hates me more for this than I do."

"Easy to say," Alexis said. Beckett felt another knife wound. "But what matters is what you're going to do about it, because he's obviously giving you yet another chance."

Beckett opened her mouth, but the girl spoke again before she could say a word.

"I'm _warning_ you–"

"Alexis, listen to me," Beckett interrupted, noting the girl's look of surprise with a small jab of satisfaction. Alexis sighed, and folded her arms, but she didn't look away.

"I'm not sure I can ever apologise enough, either to your father or to you, but I am truly sorry for the hurt I've caused both of you. I know _exactly_ how incredible a man he is, and how lucky I am to have him in my life. That's why I begged him to give me one last chance."

She took a steadying breath and continued.

"I know that I've lost his trust, and yours. I know I might not be able to fix that, but I'm going to try. I need to try. He's the most important person in my life, and I almost lost him because I was too scared to tell him that."

Alexis was looking at her cautiously, analysing every word.

"Your father… he saved me. Not just once or twice. And not just literally and physically – but he's done those things too. God, I can't even start to _think_ about what I owe him. He brought me back. He made me see my life in a new way. He brought me out into the open. He saved me from _myself_."

"That's what he does," Alexis replied. "That's how he loves."

Beckett blinked. The concise efficiency and profound truth of the statement stunned her. _You're definitely his daughter_.

"And that's why I'm in love with him," she replied. "More than I've ever been in love with anyone before. More than I even knew I could be. And I am so, so _terrified_ of losing him, Alexis, because I can't even imagine my life anymore without him in it."

It was Alexis's turn to be stunned into silence. She saw the tears rolling down the other woman's cheeks, and heard the emotion behind her words.

"You're… in love with him?"

Beckett nodded.

"For how long?"

"I don't know. A long time. Longer than you probably think. Longer than I was willing to admit to myself."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Does he know?" Alexis asked.

"Of course," Beckett replied, immediately regretting her choice of words. Nothing could be assumed. "I've told him. Several times actually."

Alexis lowered her gaze to the floor, deep in thought. This news changed things, though she was still reluctant to believe Beckett's words. She could see that this was a new, tentative side of the hard-nosed detective, and she could hear the raw truth in her voice. She clearly did understand that she was so very close to losing him, and the thought of it seemed to terrify her.

"And this isn't just about the work you do together," Alexis said. It wasn't really a question, but Beckett shook her head vigorously.

"_No_," she replied. "I love having him with me at work, and he helps us so much, but if he wanted to quit coming to the precinct tomorrow, I… I could be OK with that. I'd miss him every day, but I could live with it as long I can be with him outside of work."

She took a calming breath and clasped her hands together in her lap, looking over at the girl.

"I know we've got a long road ahead – your dad and I, and also you and I – but you need to know that I _love_ him. I'm not running away from that anymore. And I'm not going to give up on this. I _can't_. So I'm going to be around, and I really hope that one day I can earn your trust again."

Alexis listened to every word, not looking away for even a moment.

"There's no-one more important to your dad than you are, and there's no-one more important to _me_ than your dad is. So I'm going to keeping trying, and I hope that you'll let me – because I care a lot about you too."

Beckett felt completely drained from the encounter, but she kept her eyes on the girl, gentle but firm.

After several seconds, Alexis dropped her gaze, picking at a thread on her jeans. "He gets insecure, you know," she said at last. "About… how people feel about him. He always has. Even since before mom, I think."

Beckett listened in silence, barely even daring to breathe. She knew that this was a gesture of some kind.

"It'll help if you show him," Alexis continued. "How you feel, I mean. Otherwise he's always going to wonder. He gets tied up in knots about it. I think… he'll be even worse with you, after everything."

_You've got that right_, Beckett thought.

"I will," she replied. "I'm trying to. And thank you."

Alexis nodded, without looking up.

There was silence for almost half a minute, then Alexis spoke again.

"I don't like what you've done to him," she said. "But… I've always liked _you_. You just don't make it easy."

Beckett felt a lump rise in her throat. _That's a start, I think_.

"I'm trying to be better," she said, and this time Alexis did look up at her. "I swear I am."

Less than a minute later, the handle of the door to the office clicked softly, the door swung open, and Castle walked back through to the living room area.

"All done," he said, trying to be as casual as possible as he looked between the two most important women in his life.

He could see the tell-tale signs that Beckett had been upset, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he sat down beside her, and their hands met immediately, with hers grasping his like a lifeline.

Alexis watched them for a moment, then she stood up. "I think I'm going to turn in too," she said. "And give you two some time together."

Castle smiled at his daughter, who came over and kissed him on the cheek. He stole a peck on the tip of her nose. "Goodnight, pumpkin," he said, drawing a smile from her that made her seem much younger than she was.

Alexis straightened up then looked at Beckett. Her body language was cautious, but when she spoke her tone had changed from earlier. It no longer had an edge of accusation and anger.

"Goodnight, Detective Beckett," she said. "It's… good to see you back here again."

"Goodnight Alexis," Beckett replied, smiling at the girl. She didn't trust herself to say anything more.

Alexis gave her father another smile, and then went upstairs.

Both of them instinctively waited until they heard Alexis's footsteps recede and then the click of a door closing, before they turned to each other.

Castle's eyes roamed over her face, taking in the recently-made wet tracks down her cheeks and the slightly dilated pupils. The only things he felt were concern, and a deep love for this woman, still held back by his own uncertainty.

"I hope she wasn't too hard on you," he said, and she gave a shuddering sigh.

"Not hard enough," she replied. "But you were right to give her a chance to say what was on her mind."

He nodded, considering the thought for a moment.

"And how did it go?" he asked, not sure what kind of answer he was expecting.

"It was… a start," she said, knowing it was the only true response she could give him.

"Mm," he replied. "Give her some time."

Beckett nodded, suddenly feeling emotionally exhausted. He seemed to sense it, glancing down at her again, then after a moment he lifted an arm and draped it around her shoulders.

She turned towards him immediately and curled her body into his, her arms snaking around his waist and his other arm coming across his body to hold her against his chest.

"We can still do this, can't we?" she whispered, her breath tickling his chest through the buttons of his shirt. She felt his arms tighten around her.

A moment later, she felt his lips press gently against her hair at the crown of her head.

"I think so," he said.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's note: A brief bonus chapter? Kind of broke my own heart with this one, but it ends on a better note. The dam had to break with Castle at some point. You can blame the whisky I have here - at least a little.**_

* * *

><p>Half an hour had passed since Alexis went to bed.<p>

Castle and Beckett were still sitting on the couch, her in his arms, and the only sound was the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Castle had reached for the remote ten minutes earlier, switching the TV off for the night.

Beckett replayed her conversation with Alexis in her mind, over and over. She felt alternately hopeless, then hopeful; guilty, then ashamed; relieved, then filled with dread. Eventually, she pushed the thoughts from her mind, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt.

"Stop thinking about it," he said quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest and directly into her ear.

"Trying to," she said.

A minute or so passed.

"I hate feeling like this," she said.

He waited, knowing she would continue in her own time.

"It's so… tentative."

"Hmm?"

She sighed, burrowing her nose into the open neck of his shirt.

"I'm finally here with you, and we're… it's like we're mourning. I never thought it would be like this," she said.

He took a long, slow breath, choosing his words.

"I'm not sure that this is even _it_," he said. He felt her freeze, and he rubbed his palms up and down her back. "That's not what I mean. I mean that the _it_ you're talking about is something we've still to get to."

"I guess that's true," she said softly, after a moment. Then: "And I hate feeling like _this_, too. Like… I'm not sure what you–"

She stopped, stunned at the sentence she'd been about to complete. _Like I'm not sure what you feel about me._

She squeezed her eyes shut. This was exactly what he'd felt for so long now, but without even the comfort that she was getting from feeling his arms wrapped around her, and his lips occasionally brushing across her hair.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He didn't reply, and she was about to raise her head to look at him when his voice rumbled around her again.

"I've never wanted to punish you," he said. "I'm not looking for payback. I just have to be careful right now. Can you understand?"

She nodded against his chest, feeling the ache of that understanding all through her.

"I want you back," she said softly, and she felt his head move above hers. She could picture the puzzled look on his face so easily.

"I want the old _you_ back, Castle," she said. "You've lost that light in your eyes. You're so… quiet now. So cautious. And I did that to you."

He sighed, making her head bounce slightly on his chest.

"You're also the only one who can bring me back, Kate."

This time she did lift her head from his chest, keeping her arms wrapped around him, and looked up at him. His blue eyes were almost black in the dim light.

"How?" she asked, resting her head against his shoulder and looking from his eyes, to his lips, to his jaw, and back again.

"You're already doing it," he said simply. Her enormous eyes looked up at him, dark pools reflecting his own face, and he felt an almost painful tug in his chest.

"What are you thinking when you look at me like that?" she asked, her voice suddenly needy.

"About what I wanted for us," he said. Her face fell.

"Wanted, past tense?" she asked, her voice just a whisper, and he gave a sad smile.

"Sorry. Want, present tense."

_I'm not sure I believe you_, she thought. _But I want to_.

"Tell me?" she said, one hand shifting from around his waist to rest on his chest, so she could feel it rise and fall as he breathed.

He looked off into the middle distance, and his eyes became unfocused. The ghost of a sentimental smile flickered around the edges of his lips, and in the dim light it was somehow incredibly sad.

"I wanted – _want_ – … everything," he said. "To kiss you whenever I want. Walk down the street and hold your hand, so everybody knows that you're… that we're together."

Her heart broke all over again. It wasn't just the sentiment, but the oh so very _Castle_ need to correct himself before he said something possessive and demeaning like _you're mine_.

"To make love to you," he said, his voice vibrating with a complex series of emotions, the most prominent one being something like bitter loss. She felt another crack appear in her heart.

"To fall asleep holding you like this. To wake up and not have to find out it was a dream, like every other time."

He paused, blinking several times, and she didn't even have to look at how much brighter his eyes had become to know that he was struggling to hold back this old pain, as worn-in and familiar as a well-used leather jacket.

"To – someday, when it was right – ask you… and then you'd… and all of it. But _right_ this time. It wouldn't fall apart. You wouldn't leave." His voice was only a hoarse whisper now, tension thrumming in his shoulders.

"But mostly… to look at you and _know_, not wonder. Not wish," he said. "That more than anything else."

A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye and rolled exquisitely slowly down his cheek, its progress slowed as it reached his growing five o'clock shadow, then finally traced down the line of his jaw and fell to his collar, leaving a dark spot against the burgundy.

She watched its progress in agonised fascination. It was a shocking, appalling thing to see. So _wrong_ on this beautiful man.

"I am _so sorry_ I've done this to you," she sobbed, his face indistinct through her own tears.

His eyes met hers, and at last the hurt flared and pushed out past the careful barrier he'd held in place. She saw it laid bare across his strangely youthful face, lined much more than a year ago, and for a moment she couldn't breathe against the magnitude of it. Then his eyes closed.

"You nearly killed me, Kate," he said. "I swear you nearly… just… took away who I am. And some of me wants to hate you, but I love you too damned much."

His own voice was thick and watery now, and every syllable was agony for her to hear.

"And the worst part is," he said, his voice hitching at the end as she felt a tremor run through his chest, "when I finally wanted to run, the only person I wanted to run to… was you."

"I'm sorry, Rick, I'm _so_ sorry," she said, both of her hands caressing his face now, her thumbs swiping away his incredibly rare and devastating tears even as so many more of her own fell freely. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing had a ragged quality, as if his heart was an engine that was no longer working entirely properly.

She stretched up and pressed soft, urgent kisses along his cheekbones, jaw, eyelids, temples, and then his lips, tasting the salt of tears that might have been either his or hers, or even both together.

"_I love you_," she said, imploring him to understand. "_I love you._" She pressed another kiss to his lips, feeling him respond at last, and she parted her own lips, desperate to offer him comfort in any way she could.

He sighed against her, and she felt his tongue run along her lower lip. She groaned, her hands sliding back from his jaw line to thread her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She opened her mouth to him, and then finally he was kissing her back, with all the need that she also felt.

Lips and teeth and tongues and hot breath all mingled, and at last they were giving and taking what they so desperately needed from each other.

One of his hands came up and tangled through her hair, and the other held her in the middle of her back, the heat of his skin burning through to hers.

He pulled her flush against him, and after only a moment she was no longer sure which heartbeat was her own.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Author's note: Just a very brief chapter this time. It's been a busy day.**_

_**I really appreciate the kind words on the previous chapter. I'm pleased with how it turned out - even though it was painful to write (and read) in places.**_

* * *

><p>Beckett was sitting on his lap, her knees straddling his thighs. His hands rested on her hips, and her arms were curled loosely around his neck. Her forehead rested against his, and they were both breathing heavily.<p>

Castle ran his tongue over his lips, still able to taste her kiss. He felt her lift her head back. He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at a beautiful sight. Her face was partly hidden by the frame of her hair, but he could see her well enough to notice her long eyelashes resting on her flushed cheeks, and the redness of her lips.

He watched as her eyes flickered open, and he saw how dilated her pupils were as her gaze fixed on his after briefly darting down to his lips.

"Are you OK?" she asked, a little breathlessly, and he couldn't contain a small laugh. Her face softened immediately and she smiled at him, then she leaned in and pressed another gentle kiss to his lips.

He sighed, letting his fingers roam gently over the curves of her hips. "I'm OK," he replied. "Really."

She smiled again, then leaned forward to rest her chin on his shoulder, cradling his head with her arms. She turned slightly so that her lips rested against the shell of his ear, and he shivered.

"Tell me what else I can do," she whispered.

He felt desire blast through him, and it took all his willpower not to slide his hands under her thighs, pick her up, and carry her through to his bedroom.

_Too soon_, he thought. _Can't believe I'm thinking that, but it's true_.

He took several deep breaths, and felt his pulse begin to slow again.

"For now, just… keep showing me," he said.

"Let me comfort you," she whispered, her full lower lip dragging across his earlobe and sending sparks sizzling all through him.

_God_, he thought, his hands tightening around her hips. He swallowed, once again fighting for control.

"You have _no idea_ how much I want you," he said, his voice a rumbling bass note that came as much from his chest as from his mouth.

He felt her shift forward in his lap, moving more tightly against him, and she pressed a soft kiss to his neck just below his ear, bringing the skin out in goosebumps.

"I want you too," she replied, and he could both hear and feel the truth of it.

"I can't rush, Kate," he said, between breaths. "It needs to be right, like it was meant to be. Please."

There was silence for a moment, and he felt her take a long breath and then move back slightly, pressing her cheek against his.

"You're right," she said, her voice full of longing, and still a little husky. It was almost unbearably sexy, and he deliberately dug his thumb nail into the side of his own index finger to distract himself.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She leaned back so she could look at him, bringing her hands around to cup his face with her palms.

"You shouldn't be," she said earnestly, then a small smile appeared on her lips. "But for a guy who's not looking for payback, you are _killing_ me right now."

He chuckled and nodded apologetically, then tugged her hips towards him. "Not exactly unaffected here either," he said, and he saw her eyes flash as she deliberately shifted against him, making him groan in surrender.

Her hands dropped to his shoulders and she moved back a little again, giving them both some breathing room.

Suddenly, she found herself yawning widely enough to make her jaw click, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. The day had been an emotional roller-coaster, and after all the highs and lows and highs again, she could feel the last of her strength slipping away.

Castle grinned at her abrupt yawn, then immediately found himself mirroring her. When he opened his eyes again he saw that hers were half-closed, and she was swaying slightly.

"I think I'm gonna fall asleep soon," she said sheepishly, one hand sliding down to rest against his chest.

"Mm," he replied.

"What a crazy day."

"But good," he said, and she smiled.

"Definitely good."

She looked at him for another long moment and swung one leg over his, returning to a sitting position beside him on the couch. She stretched extravagantly, and then reluctantly stood up.

"Can you call me a cab?" she asked, and he looked up at her in silence for several seconds.

"It's OK," she said. "We both need to process everything that's happened today. It's day one."

Eventually he nodded, then he stood up too and crossed to the nearest phone. He dialled from memory, and within a minute there was a cab on the way. He hung up, and turned to see that she'd put her shoes back on.

"See me out?" she said, with the barest smile on her lips, and they walked together towards the entranceway where she pulled on her jacket and and picked up her purse before stepping into the circle of his arms.

"Thank you," she said. "For so much. We're just getting started, I promise."

"I know," he said, smiling at her. He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then let his fingers trace a line from her temple down to her jaw and then her chin.

She leaned in towards him and kissed him tenderly, her tongue flickering over his lips and then between them. Her fingertips rubbed small circles on the back of his neck, and he felt the soft weight of her breasts pressing into his chest.

When her lips finally lifted from his, he exhaled quickly.

"Little bit more awake again," he mumbled, and she grinned.

He looked into her eyes and saw that they were shining. There was still fear there, but there was also hope.

"I love you," she said. "Can you remember that 'til tomorrow?"

"I think so," he said. "And I love you."

Her misty smile widened and she beamed at him. She caressed his cheek one last time, then she stepped over towards the door and opened it.

"Text me when you get in," he said, and she looked back at him and nodded.

"Can I call you tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes searching his.

He nodded twice. "You'd better. I was thinking we could get lunch."

Her face lit up again. "I'd love that."

They smiled at each other for several long moments, then she sighed wistfully. "OK. Well… goodnight, Rick."

"Goodnight, Kate," he said.

Her gaze roamed slowly all around his face one last time, then she nodded once more and stepped through the doorway, letting the door close behind her.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Author's note: It's been a tough week, but here's an update. Some people have remarked either publicly or privately that this story has been a welcome diversion from their own daily lives, and/or that they look forward to each new chapter. That means a lot to me; thank you.**_

* * *

><p>Castle stared out at the dawn, the steam from his coffee cup drifting up between his face and the cold glass. It was only 7AM, but he'd been awake for half an hour already, unable to get back to sleep.<p>

The city was always in motion outside his office windows, but at this hour it was still winding up towards the Saturday morning ahead. There were patterns of fading frost around the edges of the panes, lit by long, slanting rays of golden light, and the traffic noise was subdued.

His thoughts were focused on only one thing.

_Kate_.

His dreams had been filled with her, and he could still faintly smell her perfume on his hands. His mouth curled into a small smile.

He reached inside himself to look for the empty space, and the caution, and the mistrust. They were still there, but they were smaller now, and less intense.

Something else was there, too, that he wasn't in a hurry to label.

He took a sip of his coffee, the steam obscuring his vision for a couple of seconds, then he grinned as he heard an immediately recognisable sound out in the open-plan area of the loft.

Alexis padded into his office, knowing he was up because of the smell of coffee that permeated the whole place. She was still in her nightwear, with green slipper-socks on because of the coldness of the floors at this hour.

"Morning," she said, and he turned away from the window to look at her. He was only a silhouette against the morning light, and she squinted at him.

"Hi, pumpkin," he said. His voice was warm, and she felt herself relax.

"You OK?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Absolutely. You?"

"I'm good," she said, wandering over to his desk and running her fingers across a copy of _Heat Wave_.

"So what are you thinking about?" she asked, without looking up.

"Kate," he said honestly. Alexis nodded, clearly expecting that answer.

"I kind of… shouted at her last night," she said, in a quiet voice.

"I guessed," he said.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Are you mad at me?"

Castle set his coffee cup down and walked the few steps over to where his daughter stood, drawing her into his arms.

"Of course not," he said softly. "You were sticking up for your old dad. It's encouraged."

"I might have been a little harsh on her."

Castle tilted his head, glad he hadn't asked for details of their conversation.

"I think… she understands how you feel. She really does regret a lot of what's happened."

"I know," Alexis replied. "I mean, I could see that."

"Well, I appreciate you having my back," he said, pressing his lips against her red hair.

"I always will," she said, tightening her arms around his waist.

_There's that word again_, he thought.

"She cares about you too, you know," he said. He wanted the healing process to begin for everyone, not just himself.

"I know," she said. "She told me. And I knew."

"That's a start," he said, hugging her tightly before letting his arms drop away.

She smiled at him. "Breakfast?"

"I'll be right there," he said, returning the smile.

Alexis left the office, heading in the direction of the kitchen, and he picked up his coffee mug again and took a swallow of the bitter liquid.

"We'll get there," he said.

* * *

><p>Beckett's body clock woke her right on schedule, and it took her a few moments to remember that it was the weekend, and she didn't need to go into the precinct today.<p>

Memories of the previous day rushed into her mind, and she rolled over onto her back as she replayed various moments.

_The talk with him here at her apartment._

_Dinner with his family._

_Alexis._

_Making out with him on his couch._

Her lips curled into a smile at the last one, and she felt a giddy feeling chase through her.

There was still a lot of work to be done to regain his trust, and the ease they had with each other, but they were exploring new territory now. He wanted to see her again today, and he was still in love with her.

_It's going to be a good day_, she thought, willing herself to believe it.

She threw back the covers and got out of bed, stretching with a yawn, then picked up the glass of water on her night stand and drained it in a single draught before going through to the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later, and began her morning yoga.

As she slipped into the familiar postures and felt her mind simultaneously waken and calm, she heard Castle's voice in her head as clearly as if he was standing there.

_You know, Beckett, I could help you with your asanas anytime._

"Bet you could," she muttered, feeling her breathing involuntarily quicken as she remembered the feel of his stubble under her fingers, and the taste of his mouth.

She forced herself to focus on the poses, but the smile never completely left her lips.

Forty minutes later she stepped out of the bathroom, wearing her robe and with a towel wrapped around her head. She started the coffee machine then fetched the newspaper from her doorstep, bringing it to the kitchen counter along with her phone. She glanced at the clock on the wall and decided to send him a text to read whenever he wakened.

She thought for a moment, then unlocked the device and began typing.

* * *

><p>Castle had almost finished his second cup of coffee when he heard his phone chime from the office.<p>

He glanced across the table at Alexis, who looked up from her Kindle and raised an eyebrow.

"I should… probably…" he said, pointing towards his office, and the girl gave him a tight-lipped grin.

"Tell her good morning," she said, and he smiled gratefully at her before going in search of his phone.

He found it on top of the long unit behind his desk, and the notification banner beside the green icon said _Beckett_. He unlocked the device to read the message.

_**Hope this doesn't wake you. Let me know when I can call later. I miss you. Kx**_

He smiled, and switched to the Phone app then tapped her name. She answered after a couple of seconds.

"_Did I wake you?_"

"Nope. Been up for a while. We just finished breakfast."

"_Earlier than usual for you._"

"A little. I guess I had stuff on my mind."

There was silence for a few moments, and he belatedly realised how the statement might have sounded to her.

"You, actually. In a good way."

"_Oh?_"

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Mm."

"_I've been thinking about you too._"

"Alexis says 'morning, by the way."

"_Good morning to Alexis,_" she replied. He could picture her slightly raised eyebrows, and he glanced at the clock. He wanted to see her.

"So, lunch?"

"_Where and when?_"

"Hmm… that place that opened a month or so back? The place with the flowers above the door, not far from your apartment. You remember?"

"_Perfect. Twelve?_"

"Eleven-thirty? Meet me there."

He heard her laugh.

"_Even better._"

There was another brief silence, then he heard her clear her throat.

"_So… how are you today?_"

"Why do I get the feeling you're really asking something else?" he said, with a gentle note of amusement in his voice.

"_I dunno,_" she said, coyly, and he laughed.

"I'm feeling pretty good," he said after a moment. "I'm looking forward to seeing you."

"_I can't wait to see you too. I missed you this morning,_" she said quickly, blurting it out.

He glanced at the clock again, mildly puzzled. "It's still way earlier than I'd ever get into the precinct. Outside of crime scenes, you wouldn't have seen me this early anyway."

"_I know,_" she replied, thoughtfully. "_Just…_"

_It would have been nice to wake up together_, he thought. _That's what she's thinking._

He swallowed silently, unconsciously holding the phone tighter against his ear.

"I know," he said, not waiting for her to continue. "Me too."

Another few seconds of silence.

"_Still three hours or so to go,_" she said, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'm going to do some writing," he replied. "Try and push through until I'm leaving to meet you."

"_Probably just chores here,_" she said, then she paused for a moment before sighing. "_This is… a little weird._"

They both laughed self-consciously.

"_But great,_" she added hastily, which just provoked another laugh from him.

"We'll adjust soon enough. Probably too soon."

"_Too soon?_"

"Well, we don't want to skip the fun parts. Telling each other to hang up first. Me coming to pick you up for a dinner date, then seeing your dress and totally forgetting to actually _give_ you the flowers I'm holding."

Her laugh rang out over the line, high and tinkling and unrestrained, and he felt the wound inside him shrink a little more.

"_Oh man. I'm gonna look forward to that,_" she said, the smile clearly audible in her voice. "_But doesn't lunch count as a date?_"

"Damn right it does," he said. "But I'll keep the flowers for when we're dressing up."

"_Suits me,_" she replied.

There was a comfortable silence, then he heard her exhale softly.

"_I guess I should let you get to work._"

"Mm. So I'll see you there later on."

"_You will._"

A beat of silence.

"Well… good luck with the chores."

"_Good luck with the writing._"

Another beat.

"_Rick?_"

"Yeah?"

"_I'm in love with you. I'm not saying it so you'll say it back. I just want you to know I'm going to be telling you that every day._"

"I–"

He stopped as his voice cracked. He was surprised to suddenly find himself on the verge of tears.

The memory of having her in his arms tore through him with such vividness that he could almost feel her there, then her absence struck him like a physical blow.

"_Shh,_" she said, with tears in her voice too. "_It's OK. But god I miss you. This is so… I've just never felt this way._"

He nodded, his jaw working. _I know just what you mean._

"_Go and write,_" she said, her voice brighter now. "_I'll be there waiting for you later. OK?_"

"OK," he replied quietly, his eyes once again closed.

"_I'll see you soon. I love you._"

"Love you too."

He heard her sigh in mixed longing and contentment, and then the line went dead.


	23. Chapter 23

Castle deliberately kept his pace moderate as the cafe came into view. He glanced at his wristwatch, and saw that it was 11:26AM.

The sidewalks were teeming with people. The temperature was still a little low, but the sky was the brilliant, cloudless blue of a perfect Fall day.

The collar of his long wool coat was turned up at the back and his hands were in his pockets, plumes of breath billowing out in front of him, but he forced himself not to hurry.

Within another minute, he reached the door of the cafe and gratefully stepped inside. The place was fairly busy, but there were still a few empty tables dotted about. He glanced around but he couldn't immediately see her. The cafe was L-shaped, and he walked over towards the far windows, bringing the rest of the seating into view – and there she was.

Beckett was sitting at a table about halfway along, in a quiet area that looked out onto a side street. Sunlight poured in, painting a bright band across the small, circular table, and she was looking down at her phone. She was wearing a cream turtleneck, and he could see her a purple tartan scarf folded over her coat on one of the free chairs.

He smiled, taking a moment to just look at her, then started walking towards her. He made it about halfway before she glanced up, and a wide smile appeared on her face.

She stood up as he approached, and before he could even say hello she laid one palm against his cheek and kissed him tenderly.

His arm curled instinctively around her back, holding her in place, and he returned the kiss like a drowning man finding oxygen at last.

_Finally_, he thought.

They were interrupted by the sound of someone discreetly clearing their throat nearby, and she looked around to see a waiter standing a respectful distance from their table, staring intently down at the two menus he was holding.

She flushed slightly, then looked up at Castle. He was smirking.

She slid her hand down to his chest then let it fall away, and she sat down again. Castle unbuttoned his coat and folded it over a chair, then took the seat closest to her, sitting next to her instead of across the table.

The waiter deposited the menus with a smile, then took their drinks order and hurried away.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said.

She perched her chin on the heel of her hand, her elbow resting on the table, and simply smiled in response.

After a moment, she reached across with her other hand and intertwined her fingers with his, looking down at their joined hands.

"That was a long morning," she said.

"Oh?" he replied, running his thumb across her knuckles.

She shrugged with a casualness she didn't feel, but he saw the flush return to her cheeks.

"I woke up and I was thinking about you right away," she said. "It's… crazy how much I missed you today. I'm a mess."

He smiled, squeezing her hand. "Tell me about it. It's not a bad thing."

She nodded. "So did you get some writing done?"

"Yeah, a couple of hours," he said. "It helped. But I've been fidgeting for the last hour or so."

"Why?" she asked bashfully, and he tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Wanted to see you," he said.

Her gaze dropped to their joined hands again, and he could see the pleasure on her face at his admission.

"Get up to much yourself?" he asked, and she looked up at him.

"You might say that," she replied. "Lanie called me."

His eyebrows barely twitched, but she could see the spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"Mm," he said. "How's she doing?"

Beckett laughed. "You're _not_ going to ask me what we talked about?"

"I was leaving it up to you," he said, a lopsided grin forming on his face.

"It was… an interesting conversation," she said.

* * *

><p>Beckett was considering cleaning out her fridge when she heard her phone ringing. It was only a little before 10AM, so it was unlikely to be Castle again.<p>

She picked the device up and saw that it was Lanie, and a buzz of excitement ran through her as she tapped the screen to answer the call.

"Hey, Lanie," she said.

"_Hey yourself,_" Lanie replied cheerfully. "_How's things? You didn't call me yesterday._"

"You didn't call me either," she replied, with a teasing note in her voice.

"_I didn't know if it would be a good time, after I left you and Castle in the bar._"

"We just shared a cab home," Beckett said.

"_Oh,_" Lanie replied. Beckett could hear the frustration in her friend's voice. "_So no further forward, huh?_"

Beckett paused for a couple of seconds.

"_Kate?_"

"I… wouldn't say that," she replied at last.

"_Oh?_"

The sudden interest in Lanie's voice was easy to hear, and Beckett walked over to her couch and sat down, curling her legs up beneath her.

"Do you remember the case where there was a murder before the wedding of Castle's college sweetheart?"

There was a brief pause as Lanie's memory worked. "_Yeah, more or less. Name started with a K. Turned out not to be the groom after all, and they went ahead with the wedding._"

"Exactly. So, after Castle got home the other night, Kyra called him. Having some troubles at home, and wanted to come over."

"_Shut the front door. I will kick his ass._"

Beckett couldn't help but laugh.

"_Seriously? This isn't funny anymore._"

"No, no, _listen_. He didn't let her come over, but they met for lunch the next day – yesterday. Then he came over here so we could talk."

"_I'm listening._"

Beckett told her all about the conversation with Castle, and how she had told him about her feelings for him.

"_Oh my god, Kate. What did he say?_"

"He… we talked about the timing. He had doubts about whether I'm really ready."

"_I can see why he would._"

"Yeah. But he said he's still in love with me."

Lanie sighed. "_No kidding, girl. That's wonderful._"

Beckett smiled.

"He said we could take some time, and I said I didn't want any more time."

"…_And?_"

"And… he kissed me."

"_Finally!_"

"And then he invited me over for dinner with his family."

She told Lanie about the difficult conversation with Alexis, and her friend wisely remained silent. She knew that they both agreed with most of what the girl had said.

"Then we had some time together after Martha and Alexis went to bed."

"_And you made the most of that time, I hope._"

"We talked some more. And kind of… made out like crazy."

Lanie whooped, and Beckett couldn't help but laugh at her friend's enthusiasm.

"_Well, damn. Sounds like you two finally started moving forward. I'm so happy for you._"

"I know," she replied. "I'm meeting him for lunch in a little while."

"_And you're all looking forward to it, and you're gonna be just sickening about this._"

She laughed again, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.

"Pretty much!"

"_Ugh. Well, I'm jealous and I'm doing a happy dance here. You tell that man–_"

"That he has to treat me right, or you'll smack him."

"_You got that right._"

* * *

><p>"Consider me duly warned," Castle said.<p>

They had ordered while Beckett was telling him about her conversation with Lanie, and now their food arrived right on cue.

By the time they'd finished their meals, it was almost 1PM. They were lingering, neither wanting the moment to end.

Castle sipped his coffee thoughtfully, staring out onto the street. The conversation had lapsed into a comfortable silence a minute or so before. He was pulled from his reverie when he felt her hand cover his.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Nothing in particular," he said. "What about you?"

She shifted slightly in her seat, squaring her shoulders before she spoke. "I thought we could walk back to my place. There's something I want to show you."

He searched her eyes for the meaning of the statement, and he saw only openness and a raw honesty.

"OK," he said. He set his cup down and gently turned his other hand over to grasp hers, raising it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and she smiled widely, delighted.

"Rick Castle is a romantic," she said coyly. "I knew it."

"You have no idea. _No_ idea."

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments then the waiter appeared again. Castle asked for the bill, and the young man departed.

Beckett withdrew her hand to reach for her purse, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I invited you to lunch," he said. "Let me get this."

She nodded her acquiescence after a moment, knowing how seriously Castle took his chivalry. "Thank you," she said, and he smiled.

A minute or so later, Castle became aware of a presence at his side, and glanced up expecting to see the waiter with the bill – but there was a young woman standing there. She was blonde, perhaps in her late twenties, and she was smiling nervously.

_Fan_, he thought, putting on his most disarming smile.

"You're Richard Castle," the woman said. It wasn't a question, but he nodded. "I knew it. Oh my god. I _love_ you."

Beckett's eyebrows shot up, and she clasped her hands together to avoid clenching her fists. A part of her was amused at her own response, but a larger part was suddenly seething at this stranger's brazenness.

_Get a hold of yourself, Kate_, she thought.

Castle laughed uncomfortably, and the woman seemed to realise what she'd said.

"I mean, your books – I've read all of them. I love your work. I just wanted to say thank you so much."

"That's very kind of you, thank you – Miss…?" Castle replied, carefully keeping his expression warm and disarming, from years of practice.

"Oh, it's Rebecca. Nobody's going to believe this. It's so amazing to just bump into you like this!"

"Big city, small world," he said, glancing over towards Beckett and seeing the strained smile on her face. He cleared his throat.

"Tell you what," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a Moleskine notebook that he used to jot down notes about possible plot points whenever they occurred to him, "let me sign something for you."

He tore out one of the perforated pages from the rear of the notebook, took out a pen, and quickly dashed out a brief note and signature, then handed it to her.

Rebecca's eyes widened, unable to believe her luck. "Oh god… thank you! Thank you so much."

"Always a thrill to meet a reader," he said genially, extending his hand, which she took. He shook hands with her firmly, the smile never leaving his face. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Rebecca."

The woman was still dazed, glancing from Castle to the note clutched in her hand and back again. "Oh… thank you. I mean, it was a pleasure to meet you too. Thanks so much!"

He nodded gently, still smiling, knowing how these encounters played out. He wouldn't say anything more, and she would leave of her own accord in a moment.

Right on cue, she nodded – almost bowing – and threw another quick smile in his direction before hurrying off, clutching the piece of paper in both hands.

As if summoned by the scene, the waiter wandered over and deposited the bill with a murmur of thanks, then once again moved purposefully away.

Castle looked over at Beckett, who now had a tight but amused grin on her face. Her arms were folded.

He gave the barest shrug, his expression clearly saying _Sorry – but what can I do?_

She grinned, but her eyes were still slightly narrowed.

He leaned forward, putting one forearm on the table, and when he spoke his voice was low.

"Jealous, Detective?" he teased.

Beckett didn't have a name for the feeling that burst through her. It was part possessiveness, part amusement, and part mild annoyance, but mostly it was a need to touch him and make sure everyone knew that he was hers. The heat of it took her by surprise, and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth even as she reached over and snatched his hand from the table, pulling it towards her.

Castle's face showed surprise for a moment, then he saw how her gaze had darkened, and he noticed the flush in her cheeks.

His gaze flicked down to her lips at the same moment as hers did the same.

"Rick," she said, her voice barely loud enough to hear but also an octave lower than earlier, "we should go."

He hesitated for barely a second before pulling his wallet from his pocket, reclaiming his hand for just long enough to grab a few banknotes and drop them on top of the bill.

"Ready when you are," he said, not breaking eye contact.

She stood up immediately, grabbing her jacket without looking away from him, and tugged him towards the door.


	24. Chapter 24

They strolled along the sidewalk hand in hand, with Beckett occasionally stealing glances at him.

A part of her mind said that someone from the precinct might see them, but she refused to let go of his hand.

_Richard Castle_, she thought. Seeing him most days of the week at the precinct, it was easy to forget that this man was a worldwide bestselling mystery writer, with legions of readers.

She wondered how many times he was approached by fans like Rebecca from the cafe, when she wasn't with him. Once a week? Twice? Maybe it even happened every single day, when he was getting their coffees in the morning.

She returned her attention to the people all around them, and she quickly picked out a nearby female face.

_Looking at Castle_, she thought. There was no look of recognition on the passing woman's face, but there _was_ a small smile. Beckett glanced up at him, and saw that he was lost in thought, not noticing anyone around him.

Then another woman, younger. Then a middle-aged woman. A girl who couldn't have been more than 22, and this one did seem to do a double-take, perhaps recognising him. Then nothing for a third of a block, then another woman, in her early 30s – a redhead. Another smile, and a quick glance down his body and then back up again.

Beckett's eyes widened, consciously seeing it for the first time. And it made complete sense. He was a strikingly handsome man, immaculately dressed in clearly expensive clothes, and he carried himself with confidence. His eyes shone with intelligence and wit.

_This is what it's like everywhere he goes_, she thought. She forced herself to ignore it when they were working cases, but she couldn't help but notice. If the person they were talking to was female, Castle was the subject of more than professional interest. Come to think of it, there had been a few men who had looked him up and down with a gleam in their eyes too.

She felt a wave of insecurity, then a panicky sort of relief. _I almost lost him, she thought_. Her grip on his hand tightened, and when she risked another glance up at his face, she saw that he was looking at her with a small smile.

He tugged on her hand and pulled her to a stop, and she looked at him with a question in her eyes.

"Tell me," he said.

Her brow creased, unsure what he meant.

"What you were thinking just now," he added, and she shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but not quite pulling it off.

"I just… sometimes I forget that you're Richard freaking Castle."

He laughed out loud, clearly delighted with the answer. She wrinkled her nose at him, and he swallowed another round of laughter. When he looked more closely at her, he caught the edge of discomfort there.

"What's this all about?" he asked, his tone softer now.

She sighed, and reached up to brush an imaginary piece of lint from the lapel of his coat.

"I… you're just… you. You're Richard Castle. Along with everything else, you're the guy on the book covers. Half the women who walk by on the street check you out, and I don't blame them. And I'm the only one who was stupid enough to push you away."

She dropped her gaze for a moment before focusing on the centre of his chest.

"I'm just a cop, and I've got all this baggage, and sometimes I'm not sure what you even see–"

"Kate," he said, taking her hands in his until she looked up at him. "Do you remember the word I used to describe you in the dedication for _Heat Wave_?"

A small smile appeared at the corners of her mouth, and she nodded.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.

"_Extraordinary_," she said, with an endearing note of shyness in her voice, and he nodded, leaning down towards her and speaking so only she could hear.

"You might want to think about how you can walk into pretty much any bookstore in the country, and read what _Richard freaking Castle_ thinks of _you_, and only you."

A giddy feeling bubbled up inside her, and she instantly felt better.

"You always know the right words," she said warmly, looking up at him through her eyelashes, and he grinned.

"That," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her onwards towards the next intersection, "is my job."

* * *

><p>Beckett unlocked her apartment door and waved Castle in ahead of her.<p>

He took a few steps beyond the entranceway, glancing around at the familiar space.

_Deja vu_, he thought. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he'd arrived here with coffees and pastries, and they'd had the talk that began to change everything.

"Everything OK?" she asked from behind him, and he turned to smile at her.

"Yep," he replied. "Just thinking."

"Good or bad?"

"Good. What a difference a day makes; something like that."

She nodded in understanding, and he realised she'd been thinking the same thing.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, but he just shook his head then took his coat off, draping it over the back of her couch.

She hung her own coat on a hook in the entranceway, then walked part of the way over to where he was sitting.

"I'll be right back," she said, then she disappeared off in the direction of her bedroom.

A series of scenarios ran through his mind, but none seemed entirely plausible.

_A seduction?_

_Her diary?_

_Something from childhood?_

_Something about her mother?_

He was still pondering what she could want to show him when she padded quickly back through to the living room area, then took a seat right beside him on the couch, close enough that their thighs were touching.

She set an object down reverently on the coffee table, running her fingers along its surface.

Castle glanced up at her, then returned his focus to what sat there in front of them. It was a simple wooden jewellery box, a few inches thick, polished to a glossy finish but with dozens of overlapping fingerprints on it from regular use.

"This is what I wanted to show you," she said, her eyes still on the box.

She slid it sideways slightly so it was an equal distance from each of them, then she rested one hand on top of it.

"This… way that I feel about you, Rick," she said, making him look up at her face in profile, hanging on her every word. "It's not new. I hid from it. I lied to myself for a long time, and I didn't let you get closer to me – but I wanted to. I've wanted to for a long time."

He listened in silence, giving her time to put the words together.

"I'm in love with you, and up until now I kept it locked away. In here. This was the one place I let myself be honest." She brushed a forefinger over the lid of the box, then turned to look at him.

"I want you to see. I want you to start to understand that… it's been _you_, for a long time."

He nodded solemnly, then they both returned their gaze to the polished wooden object in front of them.

She hesitated for only a moment before hooking her fingers under the edge of the lid, and opening it.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Author's note: A very brief (sorry!) update. Beckett's jewellery box is of course the same one mentioned in Chapter 6.**_

_**I truly appreciate the kind words. They mean a lot to me.**_

_**I'll be travelling for a week or so, so expect further updates in the second week of December.**_

* * *

><p>It took only a few seconds for Castle to understand what he was looking at. He reached forward automatically, picking up an item from the box.<p>

_The yellow elephant from the Christmas cracker._

Just beside it, a post-it note with a sketch he'd drawn of himself, wearing a cape.

A smile appeared on his face spontaneously as he spotted the Monopoly top hat.

Then the guitar-shaped USB flash drive of his writing songs, and another post-it with the definition of the word _zeugma_.

His mouth fell open when he saw the coffee-cup lid with the red heart on it. _I'd forgotten all about that_.

It took him almost ten seconds to remember where the pressed flower was from, but he immediately recognised the heart-shaped piece of candy.

He inhaled sharply when he spotted the cable-tie ring, and he reached towards it without quite touching it.

"I kept that on my nightstand for two weeks before I put it in there," she said, and he looked around at her in wonder for a moment before again focusing on the box.

More post-its and miscellaneous sketches. Newspaper clippings. His business card. A napkin he'd signed several times. An I.O.U. for a cherry bearclaw. A polaroid of him dressed as Captain Kirk for Hallowe'en. A shopping list. Cinema tickets. A paper aeroplane.

He carefully picked up something that was glinting beneath a laser-printed Dilbert cartoon, and immediately recognised the _#1 Partner_ medallion he'd made for her from a candy wrapper. It shone in the bright afternoon light of her apartment.

He ran his thumb over it for a moment, lost in the memory, then set it back down.

"How long?" he asked quietly, not taking his eyes from the box.

"Almost the whole time," she replied honestly. "At first it was because of…"

"The books," he said, and she nodded.

"But before long, I stopped asking myself why. I just kept everything. I look through this every few weeks. Or if I… need to feel… if I need to _hope_."

He looked around at her again, turning his body half towards her on the couch.

"When was the last time you opened it?" he asked. Her gaze dropped to her clasped hands in her lap.

"Three nights ago," she admitted.

He felt off-balance, like a man who has just found out that the Earth isn't flat after all. Things he thought were fundamentally false suddenly seemed to offer the tantalising possibility of truth. He looked at the box once more.

_I can't believe it_, he thought. _But my god, there it is._

He heard her voice echo in his mind: _I keep everything you give me._

He ran back through his memory, cataloguing the moments when he'd given her each of these objects. There was a common thread. She'd give him a wry or exasperated look, make a quip, dismiss the gesture, and then when he next looked, the object would be gone. A dozen times. Five dozen. Maybe more. For years now.

_Follow the evidence._

"All this time," he said, talking mostly to himself, and he was surprised when she responded.

"All this time," she said. There was a note of wonder in her voice too, as if she had only recently made the same realisation that he was making right now.

He turned to her and took her nearest hand in his, clasping it for a moment before meeting her gaze.

"Thank you," he said. His voice was raw, and her eyes widened at the emotion she could see in his eyes.

"I…" he begun, tailing off and pausing for a moment before trying again. "Today was the first day I woke up feeling like we were… possible. That there was really hope."

She nodded slowly, tears welling up in her eyes, as he continued.

"And what I wanted, more than anything, was to get past the doubts I've had about you. They scared the hell out of me, Kate. I've never been this vulnerable with anyone… because I've never loved anyone like this."

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, but still she kept silent, letting him speak. His own eyes were shining now too.

"After yesterday… god. I wanted to… come back, to you I mean. To let you back in. I don't think you'll ever know how much I needed to hear you tell me that you love me."

"Maybe I already know," she said, swiping at her cheeks with her free hand. "And I do love you."

"I know," he said.

The words dropped into the silence of the apartment like a heavy stone into a pond, leaving concentric ripples flowing out in all directions.

_I know_.

She looked at him, her long eyelashes dark and wet against the pale skin of her cheeks. He reached up with his other hand and brushed his thumb gently along her cheekbone, intercepting a tear as it fell.

"I believe you," he said. And then he smiled.

It was like the first sunrise after a long Winter. Every line of tension on his forehead was gone. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his irises were a sparkling, vivid sapphire blue. His lips curled up, ever so slightly lopsidedly. His expression was warm, cheeky, boyish and loving, all at once.

_Castle_, she thought.

"I am _so_ going to kiss you right now," he said, and she barely had time to decide whether she was going to laugh or sob with relief before his lips captured hers.


	26. Chapter 26

"We're really doing this," Castle said, mostly to himself, as he turned the Monopoly top hat over and over in his hand.

He was leaning back on Beckett's couch with his arm around her, and she was curled up against him. He had reached forward to pick up the small pewter object a few minutes before, after their lips had finally parted, and he had been lost in a happy daze of thought since.

"We are," she said, tightening her arms around his waist.

"Of course, you realise what this means," he replied. "You realise _all_ the things that this means."

She lifted her head from his chest to look up at him, raising an eyebrow, and he smiled.

"It means… Christmas. New Year. Valentine's Day. Always having a date. Birthdays. _Anniversaries_. Double-dating! This is huge. This is… like, _actually_ Caskett!"

She laughed at his infectious enthusiasm, nodding her head.

"Then there's… well, there's a lot," he said, trailing off, and she frowned.

"What were you going to say?" she asked, moving a palm to his chest.

He looked down at her, and his face became earnest. He gazed into her eyes for several seconds before speaking.

"I'm not going to let you go," he said quietly, setting the top hat down so he could reach up and stroke her cheek with his forefinger. "This is it for me. I don't want to rush, or scare you. We've got nothing but time. But… this is just… it. For me."

Her pulse quickened, but she wasn't afraid. It was what she wanted too, and she'd known for a long time that it was inevitable.

_Fate_, she thought.

"For me too," she said. "I think we're meant to be together."

He smiled again, his eyebrows lifting just barely enough to be noticeable.

"I didn't know you believed in that kind of thing."

She shrugged one shoulder. "Didn't used to."

"What changed?" he asked, his tone gentle and curious.

She stretched up and pressed a feather-light, open-mouthed kiss against his lips.

"Met the right guy," she said quietly. "Even if it took me way too long to admit it."

He licked his lips, again running his finger across her cheek and then along her jawline.

"So no more hiding," he replied. "And no turning back."

It wasn't a question, but she shook her head anyway. "No turning back."

He looked into her eyes for another long moment before he glanced off into the middle distance, and his eyes became unfocused.

She watched his face in silence for almost half a minute before shifting her hand to brush her fingertips over his chest.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He inhaled audibly. "Just… I guess, there's so much we've got ahead of us. Stuff we've – I've – been thinking about for years. Now we're here. We get to be _us_, now. It's a lot to take in."

She nodded, encouraging him to continue, but he was silent for several moments. She watched emotions play across his face. Wonder, disbelief, realisation, excitement, and love. There was also a fleeting look of regret, and she knew he was thinking about the time that had already passed.

"When you suddenly get what you've most wanted, what do you do?" he asked aloud, and she knew he wasn't addressing the question to her specifically. "I've thought about this a _million times_, but I'm still getting used to it. I still… I don't have any idea what's next for us."

His lips curled into a small expression of wry amusement at himself. He was still staring into space, the hand on her shoulder drawing random patterns against the fabric of her sweater.

_That's one question I can answer_, she thought, then she lightly tapped her palm against his chest to bring him out of his reverie. He looked down at her, and she smiled at him.

"That's OK," she said, "because I do."

She reached up and clasped his hand in hers, and slowly extricated herself from him, sitting up on the couch beside him and then standing up. She tugged on his hand twice until he stood up too, with a question in his eyes.

She didn't say anything, and instead took a step backwards, pulling him along with her. Then another step, and she turned to lead him across the open area of the apartment towards a closed door.

She reached it, and stopped for a moment to look around at him, putting all of her emotions into her gaze.

Then she reached for the door handle and twisted it, opening the door in front of them.

He looked over her shoulder, and saw the room beyond. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds and cast a bright shape across her neatly-made bed. A robe sat across one arm of a white wooden rocking-chair in a corner, and the night table's drawer was lying open. There was a thick comforter draped along the bottom half of the bed, and a haphazard stack of Autumn-coloured throw pillows leaned against the wall beside a dresser.

His eyes widened, and he felt his pulse race.

"Kate…" he said, unsure what he was going to say, but she cut him off by taking his other hand too.

"No turning back," she said, and her eyes were dark now. "Unless you don't _want_–"

"I want you," he replied immediately, his voice lower and suddenly rough, but his eyes sparkled with a powerful emotion that she recognised well. "But _only_ when you're ready. I swear."

She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes because she knew it was absolutely true. He would wait years more if she asked him to.

_And that's exactly why I don't want to wait anymore._

"You've got me," she whispered.

He searched her eyes for one final moment, saw the truth of it, and then gave in – to her, and to himself.

He swept forward, throwing an arm around her waist and picking her up as his lips crashed against hers, and somehow he even managed to kick the door closed behind them.


	27. Chapter 27

_**Author's note: Work caught up with me this month - apologies for the period of quiet. I'll be getting back into 'Thaw' and 'Vacation' in the new year. Sorry that this isn't a new chapter just yet.**_

_**In the meantime, my wife cajoled me to try writing a brief Christmas-themed Castle story. It should be quite a bit less angsty than Thaw, because I think we all need something a bit more upbeat during the holidays.**_

_**If you'd like to follow along, it's called 'The Closing of the Year'.**_


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